One Too Many Planets
by Obsessed Pam
Summary: It is the early days for SG1 and Sam is learning what it is like to have Col. Jack O'Neill as her C.O.
1. Chapter 1

9

One Too Many Planets Part 1

'Just remind me, Daniel, what this place was like the last time we were here?' Jack pushed the peak of his Air Force issue cap higher up his forehead, his dark eyes behind the shades constantly scanning 360 degrees. His inner warning antenna was sounding its silent alarm while the group, which made up SG1, paused on the medieval style bridge leading into the old walled town.

'A peaceful, feudal society; more concerned with tilling their fields and bringing up their families…..it's strange there's no one in the fields – no animals. I don't understand …..' The younger man's voice trailed off as he reached for his glasses, just about to remove a smudge which had been annoying him when the far too familiar, for his liking, sound of bullets went whizzing past his ear encouraging him to drop swiftly to the wooden floor.

With little in the way of protection all four returned fire though at what or precisely where they knew not. Having ordered a retreat to the Stargate, Jack and the remainder of SG1 scrambled unceremoniously back over the arched wooden structure until Sam's foot caught on an uneven plank and she hurtled forward, hands reaching out to break her fall, only to feel a firm hold taken on the scruff of her jacket followed by a severe yank which for a mere second had her legs flailing in mid-air until she was dropped onto her booted feet.

A gruff command. 'Lose the pack!' From the corner of her vision she could see her C.O. glaring at her as he gave her an extra push to propel her forward.

She could never answer as to why she looked back when she did, but on seeing the invisible force lift Jack off his feet and over the parapet she didn't hesitate, simply screaming his name as she followed him into the fast flowing waters below.

The shock of the ice-cold river all but took her breath as she dropped beneath its surface but kicking hard she pushed back up, eyes wide searching for her team mate, frantic to spot him yet aware her own energy was fading fast as her lungs screamed out for air. An urgent pull on her pack suddenly drove her up and her head emerged above water as she gratefully sucked in desperate lungfuls of oxygen, all the while dragged on by the insistent force of the river's current.

Furiously blinking the water out of her eyes she realized she was staring into a pair of black impenetrable ones and spluttered in relief as she realized Jack was holding on to her. Unable to speak they were forced through the foaming rapids barely missing jagged rocks which would have knocked them senseless had they had the misfortune to make contact. Countless times Sam went under but each time an iron hold on her arm heaved her back up, though she had little if no time to dwell on the savage countenance which continued to bore into her.

It seemed to Sam they twisted and turned in the ferocious grip of the river's current for hours but eventually it spat them out like a cork from a champagne bottle into a channel which immediately calmed into a pool of tranquil waters and, exhausted, they dragged themselves on hands and knees from its freezing grip.

Unable to speak, they lay face down, the muscles in their bruised and battered bodies incapable of responding to any electrical impulses from their exhausted brains. It was Jack who first moved, reaching over to push Sam onto her back, or rather onto her backpack. She grimaced as something in the pack dug painfully into her back.

'I thought I told you to get rid of that,' he growled weakly pushing at her pack.

'Sorry sir, …..no time……I saw you get hit and go over, so I followed,' she gasped pushing strands of wet, blonde hair out of her face.

'You wh-at?' he demanded incredulously, unable to believe his ears, his stern face darkening even further as he stared at his 2IC.

'You were hit, weren't you Colonel?' Sam suddenly began to doubt what she'd seen, her large blue eyes moving over him trying to spot an injury.

'Well I didn't choose to take a dive in below zero degrees rapids for the fun of it, Captain' he answered scathingly, 'with a backpack to weigh me down like a piece of lead!'

Ducking her blonde head, Sam was reluctant to accept that Jack wasn't actually thanking her for her action. 'How's the wound, sir?'

'Fine.'

Ugh oh, not in a talkative mood. 'Should I take a look?' she offered hesitantly, hoping to defuse the taut atmosphere.

'No!' he snapped, forcing his aching limbs to move. He groaned quietly and Sam's eyes widened in alarm.

Seeing the look, his tone softened a little as he tried to reassure her, 'I'm okay, Carter.' He toggled the radio at his shoulder and spoke into it without success; it was the same with Sam. He continued to look around, attempting to find his bearings in the wilderness of mountains and trees which surrounded them.

'Who do you think was firing on us, Colonel?'

'When I learn that, you'll be the first to know, Carter.'

'We must have travelled miles in the water.' offered Sam.

'Well, it looks like we'll have a nice, Sunday stroll back, doesn't it Captain?'

----------------

They tried retracing their steps by keeping as close to the river as was possible, but at times this meant scaling steep, rugged terrain whilst constantly being on guard, but against whom they were unsure.

Eventually, they found a suitably protected area to make camp under a rock face that offered them the possibility of building a fire without the danger of it being spotted. Their clothes were still damp so Sam quickly divested herself of her jacket, hanging it over a tree branch close to the heat.

'Colonel?' She held out her hand to do the same and with more care than normal Jack took off his own vest and jacket, wincing when he inadvertently moved his left side.

'Sir, I think I should take a look. I ----.'

His voice tired, Jack waved a hand in dismissal 'I said it's okay, just a graze.'

Instantly Sam leapt up and began rummaging around in her backpack producing the med-kit.

'You'd better have a shot in case of infection.' Jack cringed at her enthusiasm.

Opening it quickly, her voice registered some disappointment. 'All but two of the phials are broken.' Carefully, she lifted one out, tearing open a syringe with her teeth and attaching the two parts together. 'This should give you some protection until we get back, sir.'

She flicked the syringe with her finger and, satisfied it was ready, turned back to Jack who, with a strained expression, was pushing up the sleeve of his T-shirt.

Sam suddenly looked contrite, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks in the fire's glow.

'Er, in order for it to be quick acting, sir, it needs to go in lower.'

Wary blue eyes watched her C.O.'s look of puzzlement turn quickly to irritation as realization struck home.

'Forget it, Carter.'

'But---.'

'No buts,' and realizing the unintended pun, Jack's mouth turned up slightly and his voice again softened. 'The arm'll be just fine – I'm keeping my pants on.'

Knowing further argument would be useless – already in the short time she'd been on his team she'd learnt enough to know when the colonel made up his mind, nothing could alter it -Sam efficiently administered the medication, disposing of the syringe by burying it safely in the ground out of harm's way. Making himself as comfortable as he could on the hard ground, Jack attempted to relax.

We haven't finished just yet. 'Sir?' She dropped her eyes to his side causing him to raise his eyebrows in exasperation.

'Oh, for crying out loud. Here!' He jerkily pulled up his navy T-shirt, glaring hard at his persistent 2IC. 'Satisfied now, Carter?'

Cranky means pain, lots of pain; snow will have to fall in the Empty Quarter before he'll ever admit to it. She bent closer, ignoring his sarcasm, her full attention on the wound.

'With respect, sir, I think it's a little more than a graze.' She looked up but just as quickly averted her eyes from his irritable scowl. 'I'll need to dress it.' And not daring to wait for permission, she reached into the med-kit for sterile dressings and paused with cream on her finger. She looked again into his black eyes which were now fixed on something past her shoulder.

'This may hurt a little, I'm ----.'

'Get on with it, Carter!'

Okay, his patience isn't that great either.

His sharp intake of breath as she applied the yellow cream to the wound made her hesitate but his curtly whispered words, 'Finish it,' through gritted teeth urged her on. Once she'd applied the dressing she sat back on her heels admiring her work. His own caustic look, however, abruptly shattered her satisfaction and Sam quickly put the medical equipment away.

'It's lucky I had the pack, eh, Colonel?'

'Don't push it Captain!'

Mmm, still not forgotten that eh? Sam turned away, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

'What do you think happened to Daniel and Teal'c, Sir?'

'As soon as morning comes, we'll hopefully find that out.'

'If ---.'

'Are you going to talk all night or can I get some sleep?'

Guess that means I take first watch.

------------------

Sam was content to take guard duty. She was still running high on adrenalin and reconnoitring their camp's boundaries allowed her to work off some of her tension. By the time she returned to the fire Jack was deep in sleep. A cold wind had begun to rise up so she took her own jacket, which was relatively dry, and covered him with it. She hesitated as she stooped over him, tempted to check the temperature of his forehead but knowing if she woke him he'd give her hell.

Deciding against her medical instincts, instead she added more kindling to the fire, then making herself comfortable against the stone face of the rocks she concentrated on the night sounds around her.

---------------------

'Why didn't you wake me?' Jack was slow to sit up, his stiff side protesting at the movements, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. He looked pale and exhausted to Sam but she knew better than to make any comment.

'I tried, Sir, but the injection must have put you under more than I'd anticipated.'

'Okay, okay.' He sat still for a few seconds longer, eyes closed until Sam pushed a tin mug into his hands.

'Coffee's up, black and sweet – just how you like it.'

'Thanks.' He inhaled deeply savouring the aroma and the warmth. 'And thanks for letting me sleep.'

So he hadn't been fooled by the excuse.

He didn't look at Sam as he said it but it still made her pause in what she was doing. It wasn't often the fiery Colonel Jack O'Neill verbalised his appreciation and her brow furrowed in consternation.

'How do you feel?'

He raised bloodshot eyes to hers and gave a slight nod.

Evasive as ever, I see. Well I'm ready for that. 'Can I ------?'

He cut her off with an outstretched hand. 'Negative – we break camp in five minutes……..Ouch! Damn, that hurt!' Jack clutched his buttock glaring accusingly at his 2IC, who was trying her hardest to look contrite as she capped the final painkilling syringe and disposed of it.

She'd decided to spare him the 'you were in a lot of pain' explanation knowing it wouldn't go down too well and effected to do a 'Janet', hoping her apology would cut her some slack. 'Sorry, colonel. It really is more effective if inserted in the butt.'

Knowing she was right didn't make him feel any better. 'I don't know what they taught you in officer training, Carter,' he growled, 'but pissing off your C.O. isn't the most imaginative way to further your career!'

-----------------

She watched him as unobtrusively as possible, but as their path grew more treacherous it became starkly obvious to Sam that Jack was struggling. His pale, drawn face and laboured breathing were testament enough to the pain he must be in and when Sam retraced her steps for a third time in under an hour, she found him leaning against a tree, shoulders slumped, barely able to stand. As she reached his side the strength in his legs seemed to evaporate and he slowly eased himself to the ground using the trunk to support him from keeling over. Sam dropped to her knees putting her hand to Jack's cheek, a deep frown marring her features.

'You're running a temperature – your wound must be infected. Damn!'

'Easy on the language, Captain.'

Ah, that O'Neill sense of humour kicking in. A faint smile touched her lips.

He accepted the proffered water then allowed his head to fall back against the tree. As Sam moved to check the wound Jack shook his head wearily.

'Help me up.' He held out his hand for assistance.

'You need to rest.'

'Negative – let's get to the Stargate.'

'Sorry, Colonel, but I don't think you're able to cover the terrain the condition you're in.'

She saw the flash of surprise followed by anger in his eyes and braced herself knowing she was about to be on the receiving end of the infamous O'Neill pissed mode.

Pushing his shoulders away from the trunk's welcome support he pierced her with an icy glare. Through his splitting headache he communicated his displeasure with biting sarcasm. 'Did I miss something while I was sleeping?...Feel free to correct me if I'm mistaken, Captain,' and here he laid great emphasis on her rank, ' but I seem to recall that when I went to sleep last night I was a full colonel in the U.S. Air Force.' His tone had hardened though the effort to maintain how disgruntled he was cost him in terms of energy.

'With respect, Sir,' and now Sam could feel a hot burst of colour rising in her cheeks, 'you are sick. Under such conditions I feel impelled to take over.'

'Impelled do you?' His outrage was evident, his flushed features contorting in pain as he attempted to rise, without success. 'What the hell gives you the right to disobey my direct order?' he spat viciously.

Sam flinched at his words but she would not be swayed. 'I need to find somewhere safe where I can see to your wound, hopefully find someone, a doctor who can ----.'

'Oh, why don't you call nine one one?' he demanded sarcastically, flinging his arm out to the wilderness. If it was possible, his hard ass act got even harder. 'Let me tell you, Carter, your feet won't touch the floor when we get back to the SGC and I'm 'impelled' to put you on report.'

Staring down at him resignedly she shrugged. 'You do what you have to do, Sir.' And I'll do what I have to. And that means saving your life, no matter how pissy you are.

Refusing to back down from the grim scowl being thrown at her, her attention was drawn away by the deep rumbling coming from the overcast heavens. Casting her eyes up, she became aware of the sweeping black clouds scudding across the sky threatening to rain down torrents in no time.

'We've got to find shelter and that means going west.'

'The Stargate's north,' he countered defensively.

'I know, Sir and for what it's worth, I'm sorry.' She bent over, gently taking his good arm and pushing her own arm behind his back, under his shoulder she steadied him. Now is not the time to throw a tantrum. 'On the count of three: one, two, three.'

--------------

Over the next few hours Sam cajoled and sometimes cursed her C.O. to keep him going.

No one gets left behind, sir. You should know that!

And once the rain did come she turned a deaf ear to his orders and finally his curses to go on without him. She turned deaf ears to his entreaties and threats, colourful as they were, but she had to admit, as her screaming muscles protested the abuse, she was close, so very close to sinking down in the stinking mud beside him, allowing exhaustion to push her over into welcome oblivion.

It was just at that moment when her stubborn resolve began to waver that they literally stumbled into the wall of the well, both of them leaning over the ledge, gasping from their exertions. Lifting her tired eyes she could just make out the crude stone building almost hidden by the torrential rain. She turned to look at her C.O. , head bowed, eyes closed, face contorted into a grimace of pain.

He's far too pale. 'One last effort, Sir, just one, please. I can see some shelter.' Not waiting for any response she took his arm over her shoulder once more ignoring his grunt of pain and they half staggered and stumbled to the solid wooden door. Unable to use a hand Sam kicked at it with her foot too relieved when it opened to worry that no one appeared to be inside.

A quick glance round taking in the simple features of the cottage until her eyes alighted on the pallet in the far corner. As she lowered him onto the blankets Jack groaned through gritted teeth. 'Easy does it, Colonel. We can rest now.' She allowed herself the luxury of a minute's rest then with a sigh of exhaustion pushed herself off the edge of the pallet. Reaching down she pulled off Jack's boots gently bringing his legs up on the bed then carefully she undid the buttons of his vest and jacket easing them off his body.

She could feel the heat reflected from his body through his clothes aware he was shivering even as his body boiled. 'We've got to get you out of these clothes, Sir, they're sodden.' Having discarded her own jacket she moved to work on Jack's belt buckle only to find her hands swatted away.

'Go see to yourself, Captain.'

Annoyed, she stared into fever bright eyes which stared at her determinedly.

'Sir, you've -----.'

As a sudden gust of wind entered through the now open doorway a firm voice spoke softly but clearly. 'He is perfectly right, child.'

Holy Hannah! Spinning away from the bed, Sam's hand automatically reached for her P90 aware that Jack had also attempted the same move but had collapsed back onto the blankets as waves of agony shot through his injured side. Vaguely aware of him uttering expletives her attention focused on the figure by the door and her movements stilled as she realized the rather stern voice belonged to a middle-aged woman, her iron grey hair pulled tightly into a severe bun, her short, stocky body covered in a simple blue shift. The stranger throw off her outer garments and moved purposely over to Jack's side, ignoring his unconcealed hostility which was turned on her with full force, stooping to put a hand to his forehead. He pulled away but the woman hardly appeared to notice.

'Why is he burning?' Her tone of voice demanded an answer and Sam, much to her surprise and Jack's irritation, found herself explaining.

None too gently she lifted up Jack's T-shirt and began to feel around the wound causing the injured man's already pale features to whiten as he twisted trying to escape the agonizing examination. When she eventually stepped back Jack exhaled in painful relief.

'How did this happen?' and then realizing that time was important, 'Tell me later. I will try to help him, but the Shaman may have to be called.'

'Shaman?' Sam was clearly relieved that she had found help but Jack's distress was keenly apparent as his dark eyes blazed with uncontrolled hostility. Mustering all his energy he pushed himself up on his elbow growling weakly, 'Hey, I'm here too, you know. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk over me.'

Silver grey eyes bored into him. 'Is he always so peevish, or is it the wound and fever which cause this?'

You really don't want to know. Sam's silence spoke volumes and the grey-haired woman's eyes rose to the ceiling.

'Look, I'm sorry we entered your home uninvited, but the ----.'

'It is of no consequence,' the older woman answered brushing aside Sam's attempts at apology. 'My name is Ragnar.' She smiled for the first time and appeared twenty years younger. Sam's own mother curled in copy.

'I'm Captain Samantha Carter and this is -----.'

'Jack O'Neill – Colonel.' He had no intention, sick or not, to be ignored. All the same, he was forced to sink back onto the bed curling up in an effort to ease the stabbing pain shooting through his side.

'Enough of the pleasantries – you will both be requiring the Shaman if you do not remove those dripping clothes.' She pointed to another door. 'Through there you will find fresh clothing.'

Worried blue eyes fixed on the figure on the bed.'But the Colonel--.'

'I will see to Jack O'Neill, Colonel.' And Ragnar turned cool grey eyes on the man, refusing to be intimidated by his black looks.

'I can take care of myself ladies, just ----.'

'Save your energy, you are going to need it.'

And with intense relief Sam acknowledged to herself that she was all too ready to hand over responsibility of her sick and injured C.O. to someone else and hurriedly moved to the other door. As she opened it she smiled ruefully as Jack vehemently protested Ragnar's assistance and closed her ears and the door to Jack's calling of her own name.

-------------

While taking off her soaking clothes, she'd heard enough through the closed door to wonder whether or not Ragnar would be able to handle a sick and ill tempered O'Neill.

She'd actually cringed as she listened to the colonel's indignant yell, 'Hey, get the hell off of those!' to be instantly followed by the unmistakable sound of a firm hand making contact with flesh, followed by a muffled 'Ouch!' And Sam decided her musings had been answered; it seemed Ragnar could handle herself and the colonel very well indeed.

She had shaken her head wearily, the hint of a smile on her lips and accepted that if she were perfectly honest with herself there had been a time or two or maybe even three or four – no disloyalty intended – when she had felt her hand itching to do exactly what it seemed Ragnar had wasted no time in doing. Still, from a self-preservation point of view she had decided that it would probably be a good idea if she took her time changing and going back into the room.

---------------

Go to Part 2


	2. Chapter 2

One Too Many Planets Part 2

Feigning ignorance of the skirmish that had taken place between her CO and the healing woman, Sam tried to ignore the disapproving look she was given as she reappeared in a simple dress similar to the one worn by Ragnar, but Jack's weak yet caustic tone left her under no illusions as to the mood he was in.

'Carter! Here! Now!'

She threw Ragnar a look which, had Jack been fully aware, would have had him disciplining his 2IC with the most demeaning tasks he could think of for the next twelve months. Ragnar, though, had her back to them busily throwing Jack's soaking uniform over a rack for drying. Approaching the side of his bed aware that he had been forcibly divest of his clothes and placed beneath fresh blankets, Sam now gave her full attention to her C.O.

'How are you feeling, Sir?'

'What the hell do you think?' he croaked peevishly, his eyes full of reproach until he turned to hurl invisible daggers towards the elder woman. 'Just keep her away from me. Is that clear?'

Sam glanced over her shoulder, a concerned look on her face. 'Sir, she seems to know what she's -----.'

'Don't give me that crap, Carter,' his voice, though weak, began to rise in frustration.

'Give me those, please.' Sam jumped as Ragnar relieved her of her own wet clothes she was holding, returning to the rack.

Jack lay back on the bed, miserably aware of his naked state and feeling suitably defenceless other than the sidearm he kept beside his right hand.

'I need to get out of here,' he muttered to himself unaware that Ragnar had come within earshot again but she had no compunction in letting him know she had heard. She snorted derisively and bent low over the bed, her face mere inches from his.

'And how do you think you will achieve that, Jack O'Neill, Colonel?' Her grey eyes raked him witheringly. 'Take a look at his wound,' she advised Sam pointedly, her eyes never leaving Jack's flushed face and before he could protest she tugged the covers to his waist. Sam gasped as she saw the dressing she had put on earlier covered in blood and a distinct inflammation spreading beyond the borders of the bloody dressing. She stared into Jack's shadowed eyes and moved to check his forehead not surprised when he jerked away irritably.

'For crying out loud, Captain, stop hovering and can the mother hen routine.'

Ragnar's own eyes narrowed. 'It is good he has such spirit, but it must be channelled for greater things than his arrogant stupidity.'

Too weak to answer, Jack was forced to listen to her censure waiting for his 2IC to rise to his support. He continued to wait. None was forthcoming.

'I'm not sure why,' Ragnar spoke coldly, 'but I have a mind to save this insolent pup's life. I will enjoy the challenge.' And she returned Jack's glare. 'First I must search for herbs – healing herbs – some for the wound, some for the inner body. You, throw wood,' indicating to Sam a pile near the outer door, 'on the fire – fetch water from the well and heat it, lots. I will need much. When the water boils, bathe the wound.' As she spoke she began to put on a thick cape and finishing she threw some ropes to Sam.

Looking perplexed, Sam asked, 'What are these for?'

Ragnar turned back, her features devoid of expression. 'Bind him to the bed – the pain will be too intense.' And without another word she stepped out into the storm banging the door shut behind her.

Sam's appalled gaze was riveted on the closed door until a weak, breathless voice brought her back to the present.

'Get me my clothes,' and seeing the stubborn set to her face, 'that's an order, Captain,' he snapped with weak determination.

'Ragnar's right, sir, if she doesn't treat you then ……,' she allowed the words to trail away.

The lines of pain around Jack's mouth seemed to grow deeper with every passing moment. 'Carter, I'm giving you a direct order, goddammit. If you don't--.' And attempting to sit up he sucked in a sharp breath, turning grey from the pain and exhaustion as the blood drained from his face. He fell back on the bed, frustrated by his weakness, clenching the sheet as he fought to control the agony raging in his side. In the end he had no energy to move away when Sam's cool hand lay against his forehead and he had no strength as his body slipped into darkness.

---------------

He yelled, trying to writhe away from the burning torture, struggling to break free from the iron grip he was held in, dreaming that Apophis was crushing him in a vice-like hold. He was vaguely aware of a voice he knew calling to him and as he pushed the black veil aside to greet consciousness, it merely served to change one nightmare for another as Sam replaced one cloth with another. Again he cried out jerking on his restraints only now realizing they were ropes which bound him by each wrist to the bed.

Half crazed, bloodshot eyes glared up at her glassily.

'Wha' the hell?'

'I'm sorry sir,' Sam was almost crying as she lifted up the cloth from his wound as Ragnar had instructed her. In anguish she watched beads of sweat pour down his gaunt face as he tried to bite back a sob.

'Let me loose,' he gasped and seeing the look in his eyes Sam reluctantly reached up and freed him from the bonds.

'Sir…I…'

'Get on with it!' he muttered, his jaw locked in grim resignation.

His hands, now free, clenched the covers, his head striking the base of the bed as he tried to control the waves of pain which washed over him threatening to bring up the coffee which still remained in his stomach.

'Are you done?' he cried as Sam rinsed the cloth once more in the still burning water. She winced as her own hands burned painfully and then laying the material against him once more, she watched in anguish as Jack writhed on the bed.

'Just one more--.'

'No! It's enough Carter!' Then more weakly, 'Enough.' He laid back, one arm covering his eyes the other clenched around the sheet, trying to control his erratic breathing. He stiffened as he sensed her approach him.

Aghast, she cried, 'No, it's a cool cloth. I'm just going to wipe your face.' Gently, she passed the soft cloth over his face ridding him of the sweat, tears and mucus which had all mingled on his clammy skin, then rinsing it in cool water she again passed it over his neck and shoulders, relieved that her actions seemed to bring Jack some ease from his torment. Aware that he was staring at her intently she smiled down at him.

'When Ragnar returns--.'

The spell of tranquillity was instantly broken with the mention of the name and a deep frown cut across Jack's features as he growled, 'I don't want--.'

His words were cut off mid-steam as the door was suddenly thrown open – Ragnar and a rush of bitter cold wind and rain following her in. She fought the door closed then turned back to the pair.

'What doesn't he want?' she demanded of Sam, throwing off her soaking cape.

'Why not ask me?' Jack challenged weakly.

Ragnar stared for a moment then seemed to dismiss him in the next second.

'Did you do as I asked?' and seeing the bloody water in the bowls she nodded in satisfaction.

'It caused him too much pain,' Sam explained trying hard not to picture Jack's face as she'd applied the boiling cloth to his wound.

The other woman snorted, her grey eyes flashing fire. 'When men start to bear children, then and only then will I acknowledge that fact. Now come here, child. Wash these plants carefully. This one needs to be crushed with a pestle and mortar and then mixed with this liquid. The other I will prepare myself.' And still ignoring Jack, Ragnar immediately turned to preparing the medication her patient would need. Every so often she gave Sam further instructions until, eventually, pleased, she turned to Jack who had curled up into a foetal ball hardly daring to watch what the two women were doing.

'This,' indicating Ragnar's own bowl, 'is to be applied to the wound every day. It must be done after the cleansing.'

'Wha – at?' Same looked aghast.

'No way in hell!' objected Jack weakly.

Ragnar put the bowl down and sat on Jack's bed examining the wound, poking and prodding, paying no attention to either their words or Jack's discomfort.

'Watch carefully, Samantha, You may have to do this tomorrow if I am called away.'

'Enjoying yourself?' he rasped out, refusing to give the woman the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, but it cost him dearly as his vision tunnelled and consciousness faded away.

Sam noticed that only when he blacked out did Ragnar's expression soften and then she stretched out a gentle hand brushing Jack's grey hair away from his sweat slickened forehead.

'Can you hold him up while I bind his wound?' And noticing the washed strips of linen that were to be used Sam proffered her own sterile dressings which Ragnar admired as she speedily applied them.

'From where did you acquire these, they are strange yet wonderful? Fingering Jack's dressing with a featherlike touch, she lay him back carefully on the bed.

'Where we come from these are used all the time in hospitals and --.'

'Hospitals? What are these hospitals you speak of?'

'They're special places where we take our sick to get them better.'

Nodding, Ragnar now turned her hand to another concoction. 'This is a herbal drink to be consumed by our sick one. When he wakes ensure he drinks at least one cup each time.'

Please tell me that it's going to have a heavenly taste and he'll just love it. And looking into the older woman's grey eyes Sam's insides sank with the knowledge that it would be vile and no way on earth or this plant was the colonel going to drink the stuff.

Seeing the dismay on her young face Ragnar explained, 'It will bring down his fever.' And reaching behind his head Ragnar carefully lifted him and put the cup to his lips. As the first drops reached his mouth, even unconscious he knew enough to reject the ghastly tasting liquid spitting it out and twisting his head away but the older woman proved adept at anticipating his every move, her patience eventually paying off when finally, she was able to allow Jack to lay back, the cup all but empty with most of it down the patient's throat.

Putting her hand to his forehead once more she continued, 'I would expect his fever to fall within the next hour and if we are lucky it will stay that way. He will sleep many hours and so, now, I think you must sleep too.'

'No, no, I can't do that, I'll watch the colonel.'

'Your Jack O'Neill, Colonel will sleep deeply. There is no point when you are so weary to be with him. Have no fear, I will watch over him while you rest.'

-------------------

Sam slept the sleep of the innocents, too exhausted to even recall any dreams she may have had, and only awoke when Ragnar came into the room with hot water for her personal washing and her own dry clothes. She sat up, instantly awake, her concern for Jack foremost in her mind.

'How's the colonel?' she demanded rubbing her face to force herself to come fully awake.

'Awake and dressing.'

Sam looked up sharply and noticed for the first time anxiety in the eyes of Ragnar. 'Metal warriors with serpent's heads are moving through our lands again.'

'The Goa'uld!...We knew something was different when we got here but we didn't know it was them. What's -----.'

'There is no time for talk, your mate is right -----.'

'Mate?' Sam's voice and expression registered incredulity.

'Jack O'Neill, Colonel understands the import and -----.'

Sam could not help herself and had to interrupt again. 'Look, Ragnar, he's not my ----.'

'Later, we'll discuss everything later. They are not far behind, we must leave here. Now!'

Within minutes they were on the move, Ragnar leading them into the thick woods and well away from the tracks more frequently used by travellers. Raising her eyes to the grey skies, Sam whispered a silent prayer that the elements were not against them this day. Now her eyes were glued to Jack who moved with weak determination through the thick growth. Eventually Sam had to take the lead to slash away at the dense foliage blocking their way, saving her C.O. from the more strenuous activity. Still she noticed signs that he was not faring well though he himself spoke no words to indicate this.

'We'll stop for a break.'

Jack did not bother to raise his head. 'Keep moving,' he muttered.

Sam met Ragnar's eyes hoping for support.

'I know a good place just a little further,' said the older woman, rummaging in her large tote bag. She produced a brown looking leaf and held it out to O'Neal. 'Here, chew on this.'

Jack drew away from the offering eyeing it suspiciously, but Ragnar was insistent and pushed it between his lips. 'It will allow your body relief from its exertions even as you carry them out. Dare to discard that and you will feel the bite of my companion.' Sam's eyes widened in alarm as Ragnar waved her walking stick under Jack's nose eliciting a roll of dark, brown eyes. Chew!' She watched Jack closely to ensure he did not spit her precious medicine out.

As realization hit her, Sam's eyes grew even larger and the hint of a smile touched her lips. 'Col., I think you've just been given the equivalent of cannabis.'

Jack chewed, vaguely, aware of a lightening effect on his body and a lessening of the cutting pain in his side.

'Just don't expect me to roll you a joint when we get to this place.'

Having missed his dry sense of humour, Sam's smile grew.

They had to cross many paths as they followed Ragnar and, at those times, they were extra cautious. Twice they had seen troops of Goa'uld marching in formation and stayed well hidden beneath the undergrowth until the way was clear for them to cross.

Having learned from Ragnar that they had come for slaves to work the mines in some faraway place, it was imperative that their presence be well hidden at all cost.

She would never have spotted the hidden entrance if she hadn't been following Ragnar. It was so well concealed by lethal pronged bushes and trees that, for a moment, she wondered why Ragnar was so intent on taking such an arduous route. Carefully, the blue smocked woman used a broken branch to sweep away their footprints, erasing all evidence of their destination behind the thick growth.

The cold, dark, dripping walls of the tunnel were a welcome relief after the humid heat and, eventually they gave way to a small cave, with a labyrinth of tunnels leading off. They followed Ragnar as best they could, stumbling in the dark and then, suddenly, the elder woman was heard striking a flint and a torch of flames was lit revealing yet another cave-like room. This particular one had the appearance of being lived in; there were pallets with blankets laid out against one side and barrels of various sizes on the opposite wall.

As Ragnar lit more torches around the cavernous walls, Sam turned back to Jack alarmed at his flushed features and carefully led him over to one of the pallets feeling the clamminess of his skin beneath her fingers.

As she helped him lie down she offered words of encouragement with softly spoken words, 'Take a rest, sir. Sleep now and you'll soon start to feel better.'

He sank down with a half repressed groan escaping his lips, too tired to even remove his none military issue forage cap. Sam did the honours then pulled some blankets over him as he closed his eyes on the rest of the world..

'Give me half an hour,' he muttered and passed out.

Aware that Ragnar was moving purposely round the cave, Sam turned her attention reluctantly to the woman who was looking in barrels and closed jars.

'No one has been here for some time – I had been hoping others would have sought sanctuary here. The serpents must have taken so many.' Her voice sounded despondent – the first time Sam has seen her reveal such negative thoughts. She nodded her head in Jack's direction.

'How is he?'

Sam's brow furrowed in concern. 'Not good. I'm to wake him in a little while. He'll want to go over our position and will reconnoitre this place.

'Do you doubt I would bring you to this place if it were not safe?' Ragnar demanded crossly, throwing up her head in disgust. 'No serpents know of this place – there is no need for your - what is the word? – reconnoitre. Nor will he be in a fit state to do such a thing.' Again, Ragnar shook her head at Sam so that the younger woman ducked her head as if back at school, being given a stern rebuke by a disgruntled mistress.

'We don't doubt your word, Ragnar, please don't misunderstand us. It's just… it's our way. It's how we do things.'

'Do things. Hah! For such a people with advanced healing dressings, you are very slow in understanding your bodies' needs.'

And throwing off her cape, she lay it carefully down beside her bag.

'Your mate is to rest - if his body is to heal he must have respite.'

Not that again! Once more Sam's brows rose high when she heard how Ragnar referred to Jack.

'Ragnar, please, he is not my mate, I don't ----.'

'You have no feelings for him?' Ragnar stopped emptying her bag, her grey eyes boring into Sam who could feel the blood rising in her face.

'No, I…I mean yes, but it isn't ------.' Oh God!

'Enough!' sighed Ragnar, 'I have no time for your play of words. I see what I see – it tells me all I need to know.'

Sam blinked in astonishment for the moment lost for words.

'I will make him comfortable and then I will try and find the Shaman.'

'Shaman? Who is this Shaman?'

'Our healer. This journey has drained your m-an.'

Sam could see Ragnar was quite pleased with her correction though to Sam it implied very much the same connotation. She frowned but did not feel she could correct Ragnar again, and left it at that, concentrating now on finding out more on this healer.

'I do not know if my healing ways will be enough. We will see, but,' and now Ragnar's features visibly brightened, 'we have the healing waters.' She stooped over the recumbent figure, touched his forehead once more and straightened, rubbing her back and sighing.

'Healing waters?' She knew she sounded sceptical and wondered if she was getting too much like her C.O.

'Yes, come while he sleeps, I will show you.'

Taking one of the lit torches, Ragnar led Sam deeper within the maze of tunnels, never hesitating when the way diverged into two or three paths. Eventually Sam could hear a force of water falling, the sound echoing like an ocean's tide just as they entered another cavern where one side appeared to be a waterfall.

'It's amazing!' Sam stood still staring up trying to see where the water was coming from and to where it was escaping.

Ragnar had already started filling some pots and passed two to Sam to help carry.

'Hmm, it's good,' Sam brushed at the drops dripping from her chin.

'Of course – it is holy…….Now come, before your O'Neill awakes and loses himself in this place.'

The thought had the effect of making Sam's face fall and she quickly followed, urging Ragnar on when she'd caught her up.

---------------------

Her relief was evident when she set eyes on her C.O. even though he had awoken and started to explore the cave he was in.

When he turned away from the barrels he'd been examining to face them his voice sounded weak and petulant even to his own ears. 'Where've you two been?'

'Reconnoitring,' answered Ragnar rather proudly – the new vocabulary tripping off her tongue. 'And you shouldn't be on your feet.'

His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened as he stared at Sam not registering the older woman's words, so once Ragnar had relieved herself of the bowls she turned back to Jack with a determined glint in her eyes which made the colonel hesitate for just a second before he addressed his 2IC.

'What are our options, Captain?' He tried ignoring the resolute woman standing before him but she took a firm grip on his elbow and led him back to the makeshift bed.

'Your options,' replied Ragnar, giving Sam no chance to speak, 'are to do as you are told. You will lie down and rest,' she ordered sternly, her exasperation beginning to show.

Ignoring her orders, Jack attempted to shrug out of her hold turning back to Sam. 'I asked you a question, Captain.' His voice had taken on a sharp edge but it was as if Ragnar had never heard him speak.

Gently she tugged on his jacket lapel. 'Why don't you lie down before you fall down, my son?'

Rubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw, Jack willed himself to stay on his feet, irritation clear on his face. 'One, I'll decide when I'm ready to rest and two, I'm not your son!' He knew he was being juvenile but was too tired and in too much pain to care very much.

'Is your mate always this difficult and disobedient?'

'Excuse me?' Jack's raised brow would have done Teal'c justice as he turned from Ragnar back to Sam. 'What did she say?'

Oh no! 'Colonel, I think-------.' Desperate to change the subject, Sam would dearly have wished to be anywhere but where she was right now, but Ragnar gave her no further chance.

'You commitment to your duty is commendable, Jack O'Neill, Colonel, but I believe your mother, if no one else,' and here she looked pointedly at Sam, 'would approve my tenacity.'

And without hesitation she gave the injured man a slight push which, under normal circumstances, would have had little or no effect, but in his weakened condition he was pole axed.

He cursed heavily under his breath, disgusted by his own weakness, as Ragnar dropped to her knees beside him.

'You have no need to hold back O'Neill. I've heard far worse from the mouths of females about to give birth.'

Ignoring his pain and not unhappy to teach him a lesson, she raised Jack's shirt and ripped off the dressing paying no attention to his hissing protest.

'If you insist on acting like a child I'll have no hesitation in treating you like one - as you should know well,' she whispered, suitably pleased to see his eyes widen warily. Even so it didn't prevent him attempting to sit up; Ragnar pushed him firmly back, snorting in exasperation and mumbling under her breath about ill disciplined men with more brawn than brains.

Her hands, however, were gentle as she inspected his side and when she'd finished she lay a hand on his forehead and cheeks wiping away his sweat and tears.

Kneeling next to Ragnar, Sam had watched her every move and having taken hold of one of Jack's clenched hands she bit her lower lip to stop herself crying out, so hard was the intensity of the man's grip. She took over bathing Jack's face once Ragnar had finished and Jack had relinquished his hold.

'We must repeat the cleaning using the water we've collected, and I must make a new mixture for him to take.'

Jack shook his head weakly from side to side, unable to contemplate again the horrors of the treatment Ragnar was suggesting.

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Go to Part 3


	3. Chapter 3

One Too Many Planets Part 3

Later, when it was finished, Jack lay in an exhausted daze, barely aware that Sam was using water to cool his fevered both. As the interminable hours passed, he thrashed from side to side, crying out incoherently while at other periods he lay quietly, sometimes aware of where he was and who he was with. At these times Sam took the opportunity to coax and wheedle the patient into drinking as much water as he could face.

After one such effort he lay back holding up both hands, palms out in submission. 'Enough……are you trying to drown me, Carter?'

She smiled at his attempt at a joke, stroking his forehead as if seeking her own comfort.

"It's holy water, Colonel," and seeing his expression she dropped her gaze. Feeling a little contrite he attempted to make amends.

"Whatever it takes, eh Sam?"

Blue eyes rose to brow; Sam was keenly aware he'd used her first name, something Jack rarely did. She gave him a winning smile.

"I wonder if you can clear something that's been niggling me."

Please don't let it be what I think it is. Sam could feel the blood rushing to her face and prayed that the light from the torches kept her features in shadow. "Sir, I…I think you should rest now, you don't want to ---."

"Did I hear correctly when Ragnar referred to me as your mate?"

Sam kept her head down, trying to conceal her colour and the fact that she found this conversation intensely uncomfortable.

"I think….I mean….I…I'm sure," she stammered, increasingly vexed with herself that she was unable to present a cool, poised exterior , "Ragnar used the term simply to imply friendship, sir."

"Did she now?" Jack's tone clearly thought otherwise. "Talking of the devil….." Jack's eyes roamed around the cave.

"She's gone to find the Shaman."

"Wha-at?" Jack, his face darkening with undisguised anger, struggled painfully to sit up. "You let her go alone?" he accused curtly.

"I couldn't---."

"You couldn't what, Captain?" he snapped, his eyes flaying her. "And don't let me hear that it was on my account!"

Jack knew he was being a bastard but his irritation at his own weakness uncharacteristically made him lash out at the last person he would want to.

Stiffening, Sam wiped all emotion from her face as she too realized how unjust was her C.O.s stinging retort.

"No, sir!"

"No, sir, what?" he growled, unwilling to let it go at that and as she remained silent he continued, "Can you tell me why you allowed that woman to leave here alone?"

The frigid silence was broken suddenly by Ragnar's soft voice cutting through the air like a knife, startling them both.

"Why do you not tell him?"

Turning to her, Sam's expressive eyes implored her to silence, but the older woman chose to ignore it.

"O'Neill, I do not know how you inspire such loyalty in this woman when, from what I observe, you treat her with such disdain."

"Tell me what?" he demanded scowling.

"For the last few hours your fever has soared and plummeted at an alarming rate. When it abates, as now, you are quite lucid though you appear to have no recollection of those times when your body burned like a fire."

Jack's expression remained blank though he noted Sam grew more distressed with every spoken word.

"Ragnar, please!"

"Enough is enough, child. His churlishness to me is irrelevant but when I see you treated with such a lack of respect, then I must speak." And Ragnar turned back to look down on the injured man, her green eyes flashing dangerously. "When you burn she has to hold you down, and when she is not holding you down, she is bathing you constantly. When you cry out, she holds you, when you weep she cradles you in her arms and wipes away your tears, and when you curse her for her tireless ministrations she watches over you even closer."

Turning her back, Sam could not bring herself to look at Jack as Ragnar relayed all this information; rather she hung her head and stared at her hands.

"And you!" continued Ragnar coldly, coming to stand over the pallet making Jack squirm and wish she'd never begun, "What did you expect? That she would do nothing to help you?" she demanded scornfully. "I will ask you one question and only one – would you have done any differently if roles had been reversed?" She was ready when he tried to turn away and bent gripping his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Well?"

Aware that the bright colour on his cheeks had little to do with his fever, Jack mumbled something under his breath relieved when he was able to wrest himself free.

Ragnar pounced on his words. "Louder, O'Neill, my hearing is not what it used to be."

Jack glared but the grey haired woman refused to look away.

"I said 'no'," he shouted. "Is that loud enough?"

Turning away to look at Sam, she replied calmly, "It is sufficient."

Tired from his exertions, Jack was forced to lie back, desperately aware that the fever in his body was beginning to rise yet again. He tried reaching for the water but upturned the container and was forced, through weakness, to fall helplessly back on the pallet.

Hearing the clatter of the falling bowl, Sam turned and made to go to Jack's side, but Ragnar put out a restraining hand.

"I think it is your turn to rest, child. He has had too much of your attention – let him be satisfied with mine." And seeing her hesitation, Ragnar coaxed, "Go and rest, we have important things to do all too soon."

When Ragnar knelt next to Jack and cradled his head he drank copiously then lay back trying to fight the dizziness and utter weakness which attacked him so virulently. He felt a cool cloth on his forehead and opened weary, pain-filled eyes.

"Try and rest too, O'Neill. Soon we will bring the Shaman."

His throat was burning as he tried speaking. "Where?"

Ragnar's own eyes darkened ominously. "The lizard people have her."

His brain was having difficulty focusing on the problem but he knew there was something not right though he couldn't put his thoughts coherently in order. He felt himself drifting off trying to solve the dilemma and fought against the overwhelming powers of his illness. His last clear thought was of Sam in her combat gear, ready to go on a mission – going without him. He tried reaching out desperately for her, calling her name over and over.

He couldn't tell whether he was dreaming or not when he next opened his eyes and saw his 2IC in combat fatigues. Her face was stained for night operations and she was checking her weapons.

"Carter?" He grimaced at the depth of weakness in his voice.

She looked up startled, an almost guilty expression quickly replaced by one he couldn't work out

"What's going on?"

Ragnar was quickly at his side proffering a bowl of honeyed mead but Jack drew his head away, aware that this was one concoction which enforced a drug induced sleep. He needed information and wasn't about to allow himself to be drugged.

"Captain, I'm waiting for an answer."

Knowing Sam would never refuse to answer Ragnar attempted to intervene, but Sam waved her away, her eyes fixed on her C.O.

"Sir, you're sick – you're very sick. Ragnar informs me that the Shaman can cure you – we're not having much success, even with the holy water. I'm going to find her and bring her back here."

Weak as he was, his eyes radiated their owner's anger. "And just how the hell do you intend doing that, Captain?"

The sarcasm was all too evident but Sam chose to ignore it and enthusiastically outlined her plan of action. The more Jack heard, the more his heart plummeted, so much that, in the end, he wished he had been having a nightmare.

"And let me ask you," his sarcasm had gone up a notch or two, "just let's imagine that your little scenario doesn't quite pan out the way you've planned – what back up do you have?" Jack's last words were fired at her with high velocity and she blinked in consternation.

"Sir, there's no back up, but I have no choice."

'Like hell you do!"

'With respect, sir, if I don't get this Shaman to you," and here she paused uncomfortable to continue.

Jack would have liked to use his cutting military authority to force Sam to back down, but that stubborn look in her eyes troubled him more than he liked to admit and he decided a change of tactics was required.

The hard edge to his voice was replaced by one far more amenable, calling on Sam to use her judgment. "Sam, think straight here. You'll be going on a suicide mission if you go alone."

"But she's not going alone – I will accompany your mate."

Jack raised his eyes as if to the heavens and slowly shook his head, a pained expression which had nothing to do with his injuries, crossing his features. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?" he muttered dryly.

"It's all we've got, sir."

"No, it isn't!" he shot back.

As realization hit her, Sam's eyes widened in alarm and she began shaking her head. "No way, sir. We're trying to keep you alive until---."

"Listen to me – you need back up. I know what I'm talking about and you know it," he challenged.

"You'll never make it to the Goa'uld camp," she countered, accepting that what her C.O. said made absolute sense but refusing the offer.

"I can with some of those leave of yours." And now Jack was addressing Ragnar, his eyes locked on hers.

"You don't know what you are asking," she warned

"They helped me get here."

"You don't understand. The leaf causes a terrible craving. To take more than one or two is extreme folly and not even the Shaman can ease the deep need."

"I'm willing to take that chance."

Ragnar's hesitation encouraged Jack to push himself up, however Sam's firm "Well I'm not!" had him closing his eyes, yet still a voice of reason within him warned him to contain his frustration.

"Captain, I'm not ordering you, I'm asking you – please...Sam?"

She'd heard that tone before when he was trying to get Janet to agree to an early release from the infirmary, but he'd never used it on her and she tried to close her ears to the Pied Piper plea of his voice.

"Let me at least try – if it gets too much, I promise I'll fall back and leave you to it."

Sam stared at him suspiciously and Jack had the grace to look sheepish.

Ragnar, having listened and watched the two, now stepped forward. "It makes sense – sick or not, your mate's thoughts are clear."

"He's not my mate! She snapped her annoyance plain to hear, though Ragnar felt it was more for O'Neill's benefit than for her.

"His fever has just fallen – that allows possibly two or three hours of clear thought before the fever re-establishes itself."

Trying hard to curtail his impatience and the fact that he was being talked over, Jack knew that if he allowed his temper to get the better of him he could well lose all chance of persuading the two women to come round to his idea. Strangely enough, he felt Ragnar was more amenable to his plan – it now rested with Sam and he wasn't sure if he had what it took to get her on his side.

Throwing the blanket off, he willed his legs to support him as he pushed himself up. "See," he forced a smile though he was hurting, attempting to appear confident and relaxed.

Sam's jaundiced eyes regarded him coolly. "Stop faking it, Colonel."

Jack's smile faded and he allowed himself a sheepish shrug, as if to say 'what else can I do?'

By the time they were ready for departure, Jack had to grit his teeth, as much from the fuss being made over him as the pain from his wound.

Yet again Sam approached, her hand automatically reaching out to feel his forehead, but it was just once too often.

"For crying out loud, will you stop doing that!" he snapped, his outburst making Sam jump back in alarm.

Too late, he realized his mistake. 'Crap.'

Ragnar's eyes narrowed menacingly as she came face to face with him. "If you don't want me to put you back in your bed right now, O'Neill, you will accord Samantha some courtesy!"

Jack's eyes glared darkly; he was ready for battle, but he did not want the fight to be against Ragnar – he was under no illusions as to who would be the victor. Dropping he eyes, he mumbled a few words only to have the older woman rap him none too gently on the thigh with her long walking stick.

"Ouch! I said I apologise!" and seeing Ragnar did not comprehend his choice of words, Jack continued hastily, "That means I accord her respect, lots of respect!"

Sam eyed Ragnar's stick worriedly, particularly when she could hear the sarcasm in Jack's voice, but fortunately for Jack, it appeared sarcasm was unfamiliar to Ragnar and she accepted the words at face value. Only as they were leaving the cave did Jack lean close to Sam and whisper softly in her ear, "When we get back Carter, you and I are going to have a long talk on a number of issues." She winced at the implied threat. "Understood, Captain?"

"Understood, sir."

It was surprising to Sam how lax the Goa'uld appeared as they observed them from their vantage point high above their encampment. Ragnar had explained that as their people were so peaceful - and here Jack had snorted throwing her a disbelieving glare as he rubbed his bruised thigh to which she had swiftly retorted, "Disobedient children sometimes need a gentle reminder." - There was little need for high security but both Sam and Jack put it down to a possible renegade group lacking a powerful leader.

Still trying to hide her smile at Ragnar's words to Jack, she whispered, "You're sure the Shaman is held there?" indicating a tent guarded by two serpent soldiers and the older woman nodded affirmatively.

"Okay, listen up. We'll do it like this--"

Ragnar held up her hand imperiously, cutting off Jack in full flow.

"If I remember correctly, O'Neill, you are back-up. And as such you are to await our instructions. Am I not correct?" She looked to Sam for confirmation, who, ignoring her CO's deep scowl, nodded affirmatively.

As Sam and Ragnar made to move out, Jack held up a hand. The two women halted watching as Jack struggled to find his tongue.

"Sir?" clearly unused to seeing the colonel at a loss for words, Sam's concern rose; she was deeply worried that the narcotic effects of the leaves were wearing off more quickly than they had anticipated.

Eventually, looking his 2IC in the eye he spoke firmly. "I don't want you taking any unnecessary chance, Captain, is that understood?" His voice sounded brusque but his eyes imparted far more than his words ever did and they burned with an intensity Sam found disconcerting. Having met his gaze, she now floundered and dropped her eyes in confusion for a second and when she dared to meet her CO's eyes again a shutter had come down and the hidden message she thought written there was gone.

"Yes, sir, we'll be careful."

It had been almost too easy disabling the serpent guards but for once Sam wasted no time questioning this oddity – she'd take whatever break was thrown her way. However, when Sam entered the tent she was unprepared for what she found – an exact double of Ragnar! Sam stared incredulously from one to the other.

"Are you twins?" she asked watching the two embrace warmly.

"If you mean, are we of the same birth – yes," replied Ragnar, her eyes shining with joy.

"Why didn't you say?"

"It was unimportant."

Ragnar turned back to her twin and it seemed to Sam they were communicating without speaking.

"Ragnar, we must hurry."

"One moment, child."

Casting her eyes around for further trouble, Sam glanced over her shoulder. "Tell me about it later – when those two guards come round we need to be well away from here."

Ragnar shook her head, her features conveying her disagreement.

"Take the Shaman and go – I must stay."

"Wha-at?" Sam froze in disblief at what she was hearing. "You can't be serious?" For a mad moment she felt herself sounding like Jack and wondered how he was, but Ragnar brought her back to her senses.

"You are right, you must go. O'Neill will be unsettled at the delay," Ragnar advised, knowing when to play her trump card, "but I must stay or the serpents will exact a terrible revenge on our people."

Confused, Sam ran a hand through her short, blonde hair. "Why, I don't understand?"

"Do you see this?" Ragnar motioned to some strange containers in one corner of the tent. "They contain an element the serpents hunger for."

"What is it?"

For the first time the Shaman stepped forward and Sam could see an exact replica of Ragnar except her eyes, which were such a deep aqua-green she had to force herself to look away, so mesmerizing were they.

"The serpents call it Tilan – it is highly treasured by them, but only after it has been treated."

"Treated?" Sam frowned her confusion. "What do you mean – what's so special about this Tilan?"

"The serpents use it in their life caskets."

"Life caskets?" Sam felt the conversation getting away from her. She wondered if she should….

"She's talking about the Goa'uld's sarcophagus!" The voice was highly pissed and as she spun on her heel, Sam cringed at the brutal look, a silent yet deadly condemnation for dropping her guard and allowing him to creep up on them. She knew this would be much more painfully vocal when there was time for it. "Enjoying the chat?" he demanded icily

Swallowing her discomfort, Sam's concerned gaze settled on her C.O. aware that he was chewing on the special leaf Ragnar has so carefully handed him with her stern warning to use them sparingly. She had to restrain herself from rushing over to check how he was and realized Jack had sensed her feelings when he glared even harder.

She turned guiltily away and noticed the Shaman's eyes fall on Jack and then turn to Ragnar as again, some form of silent communication passed between them.

"What my beloved sister does enables the life caskets to work more productively."

Jack looked thunderous. "You mean this stuff helps keep the Goa'uld alive longer?"

Ragnar nodded.

"So let's destroy this and get the hell out of here."

Jack was fast losing his patience with the lack of action at such a critical time.

"I must stay so that the serpents will not realise the shaman has escaped."

"But the Tilan?" Sam was not happy with this turn of events at all.

Ragnar remained calm in the face of Sam's unease. "They will not realise for many moons, by which time they will have left this place."

Shaking her head Sam continued, "I don't like it, it's too dangerous." Sam couldn't quite admit that she found it hard to think of Ragnar in such danger and she looked to Jack for support.

"I don't usually agree with Ragnar, but she is right, Captain. Once those guards wake up – they'll find everything as it was, other than the big, fat headache I hope you've given them. They'll not be too eager to admit their negligence and face the wrath of their 'god' if nothing appears amiss. Once they've left it's up to your people to destroy the stargate so they can never return."

Unwilling to accept what everyone else had agreed Sam continued to put up resistance. Ragnar's sacrifice was too much to accept. "But your eyes!"

The Shaman stepped forward. "They dare not look into my eyes so they will not notice the change until it is too late."

"And then, what happens to you?" she persisted. Stepping forward, Ragnar took Sam's hands in her own.

"We are successful. We have what we came for, now you must go." She nodded towards O'Neill. "Already I see he weakens – he must have no more of the leaf. Once the Shaman has dealt with his wounds you must deal with the craving sickness yourself."

"Ragnar, I….I…"

"I know what is in your heart, you need say no more," and her grey eyes glowed with joy. She turned to Jack an amused glint now reflected in the grey. "And I know what is in your heart too, O'Neill." And she smiled as Jack swiftly dropped his eyes as if to guard against her intrusion. "Your secret is with me," she said softly and his head jerked up, alarm in his eyes. "Now go, and always walk in the light." She turned her back on them reaching one more time for her sister and then they were moving.

They heard no signs of disturbance as they hurried away, and once they felt relatively secure they halted to allow Jack to rest. The Shaman took his hand, placing her own palm against his.

"Feel my strength," she whispered, her voice so like her sister's that Jack found it difficult to believe it wasn't Ragnar, until he felt a surge of energy enter his very vitals. The pain in his side instantly lessened and he shook his head in wonderment.

"How….how do you do that?" He sounded perplexed.

The Shaman smiled but gave no answer.

"Come, we must seek the holy water to make your recovery complete."

Back at the cave Jack was still relieved to slink gratefully back onto his pallet, but the Shaman shook her head and smiled gently as she took his hands and coaxed him back up.

Hearing his groan of protest she softly explained, "Soon you may rest, my son, now we must bathe. Come." And carefully she led him to the place where the water fell, Sam following closely.

He was startled by the waterfall and more astonished when the Shaman led him right under the flow fully clothed. She encouraged him to drink and ran her hands over his head and down his body. At long last she led him out and they returned to the cave where she carefully undressed him, wrapping him in blankets while she softly intoned an incantation in a language unfamiliar to either Jack or Sam.

Unable to stay awake, Jack did not see her uncover his wound, sprinkling a powder on it then recover it. After a number of hours in which Sam also slept, the Shaman again uncovered the wound – there was nothing but healed flesh.

Sam, having just awakened, looked over her shoulder, totally and utterly dumbfounded. "How….how did you do that?"

"It is a gift." The Shaman almost seemed shy of Sam's open admiration. She turned back to Jack observing the rapid fluttering of his eyelids and the increase of his heartbeat. "My work is done here – yours must continue."

Sam frowned not understanding. She was so delighted that Jack was well that she had forgotten Ragnar's warning.

Going to where Jack's clothes lay drying, the Shaman bent down. When she stood up again she held out her hand holding some leaves in her open palm.

"One sickness replaces another and this one I have no powers over. You must be strong and defeat the devil within him."

"You're not staying?" Sam had grown so used to Ragnar's presence that she was loath to lose the company of her twin.

"I have done what needs must, but work awaits me beyond. Have no faintheartedness, my sister saw in you a kindred spirit – your courage will suffice, but you must be strong."

When Sam raised her head, the Shaman was gone.

Go to Part 4


	4. Chapter 4

One Too Many Planets Part 4

He felt different. Turning onto his side, he realized almost immediately that the debilitating pain he had lived with for the past three days was gone. Hurriedly, he sat up staring at his naked side devoid now of even a scratch. What had happened to that deep, ugly wound? Amazed, he ran his fingers over the unblemished skin, not quite believing his eyes.

"It's true."

He spun around on his makeshift bed to find Sam sitting cross-legged eating something which resembled porridge. He tried not to look at the stuff; it was beginning to make him feel like throwing up.

"How…? When did…? What…?"

Sam smiled in understanding, putting aside her nourishment, much to Jack's relief, explaining, "Ragnar's twin did what Ragnar said she could do."

"Pity she didn't turn up earlier."

Sam's smile faltered and her eyes didn't leave him as she watched him do a sweep of the cave until his gaze alighted on his clothes. He stood, careful to ensure the blanket covered him, and walked self-consciously over to them.

He felt their dampness but preferred them to his present attire. He pointed to one of the tunnels offering some privacy, but as he walked barefoot, Sam spoke softly.

"You've no need to be shy on my account."

Jack stopped in his tracks, frowning deeply, not turning to face Sam.

"Meaning, Carter?" he demanded acerbically.

Sam quickly hid her smile but couldn't quite manage to conceal the amusement in her voice.

"Nothing, Sir." She dropped her gaze and continued eating.

When he reappeared, he looked guarded and returned to where his clothes had been drying.

"Looking for something, Sir?" Sam kept her tone neutral.

"And if I am?" Jack's voice was quite the opposite.

"You won't find it, Sir." Her eyes met his, gentle in their understanding. "I've been over everything with a fine-tooth comb – there are no more leaves." Putting aside the food, she rose to her feet. "Intwenty-four hours you'll be over this," she uttered encouragingly, "but you have to fight it!"

"Oh, so you've experience of this, have you, Captain?" His voice had hardened as his eyes blazed with anger and something else Sam had never seen before – despair.

Refusing to look away she murmured softly, "Yes, in a way. When Mark was at college he got sucked in, but he went into rehab."

Jack's eyes, which had radiated rage, suddenly showed his vulnerability.

"I…I don't know whether I can go through this again."

Sam's eyes widened, astonished at what he was alluding to, wondering how and when her CO could ever have been an addict and still be in the U.S.A.F.

Suddenly Jack turned away, his features contorted for a second before he clamped down on his discomfort and moved back to his bed, kneeling down, his arms locked tightly across his midriff.

"I don't want you here."

He spoke so softly Sam wondered for a second whether she had heard him correctly.

"Sir?" She moved a step closer and halted as his voice grew in tempo.

"I have to do this alone."

"I don't think so." And remembering with whom she was speaking, "Sir."

Tortured eyes rose to hers and what she saw made her long to reach out and hold Jack, but discipline kept her still.

"You'll do as I order, Captain." His voice wavered. "Please…." His appeal nearly undid her. "For crying out loud, Captain, leave me some dignity."

Tears threatened, pricking at her painfully dry eyes. Holding on to the mask that hid her crumbling emotions, she reached a tentative hand out but allowed it to fall away before it could touch him.

"There's no other man I respect more, Sir."

"Is that all?"

For a moment, Sam was totally at a loss and wondered if her face was as flushed as she felt it to be. She locked eyes with him but all she could see was a wry expression on his exhausted face.

"I was joking, Carter."

She smiled tentatively, still ruffled by her own thoughts yet also relieved. The dry humour of the Colonel was what she was used to and which she was usually quick to appreciate. Only this time, this time she felt as if there was something hidden in his question, something she was unwilling to analyze right now.

"Let me do this my way, Sam," his words brought her back to the problem and it was one she didn't like at all.

Her eyes oozed sympathy and apology, both anathemas to her CO. "Sir, I…I think you'll need some support."

Snorting softly, Jack gave a wan smile. "I'm aware of what you're trying not to spell out for me, Carter, but you can spare me the sugar-coated version. I've more than a fair idea of what to expect – I know it isn't going to be pretty."

The shivering had already begun and instantly Sam was there, stooping to wrap more blankets around his shoulders.

"Will you get the hell out of here now……please?"

This time, when he looked into her eyes, she didn't have it in her to refuse.

Quickly, she arranged for water to be within arm's reach, together with food and even more blankets.

"I'll be back in twelve hours," and seeing the protest about to be fired at her, continued in a firmer voice, "and that's my final offer – it's not open to discussion, sir."

Eyes red rimmed and running, Jack looked at her despondently and nodded reluctantly. Taking her pack, Sam threw him one last look, clearly unhappy with the situation, and left him alone with his nightmares.

She wandered the cavernous tunnels, making clear marks when a route divided – she had no wish to be lost in this myriad of passageways. Yet her mind was only on one thing and one thing alone. She chastised herself for not thinking of the larger issue, of getting back to the Stargate and home, but these past few days had allowed her no other choice.

She willed herself to continue her exploration aware that Jack would demand no less of her when he was over his present sickness.

Her mind began to race as she thought of him back there, alone, fighting his inner devils. She knew those demons which would be attacking him – she had seen the appalling consequences in her brother, Mark, and quailed visibly at the thought of what her CO was going through.

She rechecked her watch for what must have been the hundredth time, silently cursing that there were still many hours to go before she could return. She would find a spot and try to rest, to will the hours away to the point when she could be back with her stubborn Colonel.

He was huddled in a foetal position, completely covered by blankets, when she at last returned. His body rocked in erratic movements but no sound emanated from beneath the covers.

Quietly she knelt beside him, calling his name softly as she laid a gentle hand on his form.

He jerked at her touch, a harsh breathing sound escaping before her hand was shaken off and the rocking was resumed. Sam's eyes swept over the provisions she had left noting that some of the water had been consumed but none of the food.

"Leave." His voice sounded flat, devoid of any emotion.

She made to move the covers but Jack held on tightly, his voice a sudden whiplash. "No!"

Sam murmured, "It's been twelve hours, Sir, just let me---."

"Get the f-ck away!" he spat through gritted teeth, every word an effort. "I…don't…want…you…here!"

Sam could hear his strained and tortuous breathing and looked wildly around, wondering how she could ease his suffering. If only Ragnar were here. That was it! Ragnar! She would help her to ease his pain.

"Sir, I can't stand by like this, I'm going to try and bring Ragnar back."

A hand shot out from beneath the blankets, grabbing her wrist, making her wince.

"Negative. Do…I…make…myself…clear?"

The blankets dropped away and Sam almost gasped aloud at Jack's ravaged looks. His eyes were wild, bloodshot and deeply sunken above hollow cheeks. He was sweating profusely yet wracked by shivering spasms, his sodden uniform clinging to him.

Tentatively, Sam reached out with her free hand but Jack drew away releasing her and just as quickly fumbled to draw the blankets over himself again.

"I…have…to do this…without…Ragnar's or the Shaman's help."

"Does that include me?" Sam spoke more sharply than she intended, her face taut with strain until he groaned and Sam dropped to her knees her hands brushing the hair from his brow.

Pain-filled eyes looked up at her. "What have I done to deserve you?"

The sarcasm was still evident but Sam found it difficult to raise a smile.

Slowly, with obvious difficulty, Jack threw off the covers and sat up though the effort cost him dearly.

"I'm going." She stood and received 'the look' albeit through bloodshot eyes.

"You'll stay." His voice was low and weak but it still managed to convey authority.

"But you said---."

"Carter, I don't…have…the energy…to argue so…shut up!"

As the debilitating cramps began to return, Jack wrapped his arms around his midriff and resumed his rocking back and forth, back and forth, whilst perspiration dripped down his body.

For a while Sam remained still, afraid any movement from her would detract from her CO's concentration in fighting the pain, but when the projectile vomiting began, she could stay still no longer.

Grabbing an empty bowl, she held it close to his head whilst supporting his burning forehead with her other hand, all the while whispering gentle words of encouragement.

Between attacks, Jack attempted unsuccessfully to make her go, revolted by his own weakness, hating that she should be a spectator. "Leave me," he gasped before another bout of dry retching hit him, rendering him incapable of any more speech.

Sam ignored his demands, evaded his futile attempts to push her away and continued to hold the bowl and support him, and when it was over and Jack lay back totally exhausted, she removed the fouled blankets, wiped his face and neck and settled his head on her lap, stroking his forehead until he fell into a fitful sleep.

His dreams, troubled and intense, had him crying out a number of times, names Sam was unfamiliar with until she heard his cry for "Charlie!" It was a heart rending sound of pure agony that Sam found herself praying she would never hear again. The rawness of it seared her soul and as she bent to wipe away the sweat, mucous and tears he came awake with a cry, attempting to sit up until she calmed him, holding his shoulders down.

"Easy, Colonel. It was just a bad dream."

For a mad moment his glazed eyes did not see her and she struggled to hold him until, suddenly, sanity reasserted itself and he allowed his rigid body to relax, covering his eyes and most of his face with an arm.

"How……how long have I been out?" His voice was dry and sore and he gratefully accepted the water his 2IC offered.

"Four hours almost."

He had not failed to notice the blankets hanging up, washed, but his nose still wrinkled in disgust.

Crap. "I reek of puke!"

"It's not so bad," she smiled disarmingly.

Hidden behind his arm he muttered, "You're fooling no one, Carter…. I need to wash."

"If you're up to a short walk, Sir, I can take you to a place."

Jack lowered his arm, staring at her suspiciously but the odour in his nostrils had him nodding in acceptance.

He had thought they would go to the cave of the waterfall where the Shaman had done part of his healing but when they entered a larger cavernous structure revealing a pool, Sam turned to Jack, her eyes alight with a combination of excitement and hope.

"I found this place late yesterday when you wanted me out of your way." Her voice couldn't conceal her delight. "I thought the waterfall was wonderful, but this……."

She dropped the clean blankets on the floor, safely away from the water's edge and turned to Jack.

"Can I help?"

He was already shrugging off his sour-smelling shirt, but paused giving her a withering look.

"What is it with this planet?" He snapped in a temper. "Every woman I've met has had to get me out of my clothes!"

Ducking her head to hide her amusement, Sam coloured hotly at her CO's next acidic words. "Is there something funny I've missed, Captain?" And deciding silence was the better part of valour, turned her back on him after innocently shaking her head in reply.

She had been waiting for the sound of him entering the water so she could turn around but nothing seemed to be happening and she frowned, worried that he may be feeling too ill to cope.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"I will be when you're in there, Carter."

She turned to face him, her alarm evident. "Me?" she squeaked, feeling her face going red yet again.

"What's good for the goose, Captain……?"

"But, sir---."

"Would you like some help, Captain?"

Sam's eyes shot up to Jack's but his face, half in shadow even with the lighted lamps, revealed nothing so she was unsure whether he was being mildly sarcastic or not. Was there a hint of the flirtatious? She shook her head considering herself foolish, and yet….

Moving from one foot to the other in her discomfort, Sam stammered, "I…I can't."

Feeling like something his stomach had only recently been expelling, Jack was in no mood for coyness. "For crying out loud, Carter, get in the damned water!"

Sam's reluctance was not helped by the fact that she simply couldn't explain what the waters did for women who weren't ill. The Shaman had enthused about the potency of the water but Sam knew that if she so much as mentioned that aspect, her CO wouldn't go anywhere near it not to mention drink it. She wondered ruefully if partial truth might just work.

"Sir, the water must only be used by the sick and needy." There, that covered it all.

"Oh, come on Captain, don't tell me you believe in that rubbish."

"It's not rubbish!" she protested hotly.

"Okay, okay," Jack was willing to appease her, "that's fine by me. Let's go."

Sam's appalled face fixed on his back as he began to retrace his steps.

"Colonel, you've got to go in!" she appealed.

"Got to?" Jack's eyebrows arched letting Sam know just what he thought of a lowly captain trying to give orders to a colonel.

Her defiance was steamrollered when she realized that the only way to get him in to the healing waters was to….

"I don't think this is a good idea, Sir." Yet cautiously, she began to unfasten her jacket, her movements as slow as possible in the faint hope that Jack just might tire of waiting and go in the pool. He didn't. And with a sinking of her spirits, Sam stepped out of her trousers. She was about to divest herself of her T-shirt which would reveal a skimpy bra then decided against it. She didn't want to even consider what her CO's expression would be if he were to view all that lace. It didn't bear thinking about.

"Ladies first, Captain."

She had failed miserably and she shook her head forlornly. Tentatively, she stepped into the cool, dark expanse of water, somewhat relieved to escape the Colonel's penetrating gaze on her semi-naked body. And just as quickly Jack was beside her, treading water.

"Satisfied, Carter?" His cool words echoed around the shadowy confines of the cave.

He didn't expect an answer and she didn't give one as slowly, but relentlessly Sam felt the warmth of the water creep over her, gently enfolding her in its dark embrace. She kicked out, away from Jack, and lay on her back totally relaxed yet still aware she should try and keep her distance.

"I'm not saying," said Jack breaking into her thoughts, "that I agree with you about this place, but I do kind of feel a little better for this swim."

Sam smiled across at him encouragingly. "I know what you mean, Sir."

Unusual for her CO, he was in a talkative mood and flipping onto his own back, he also floated gently on the surface. "I guess I've been hard work these past few days."

Sam turned her head, meeting his eyes which were almost hidden in shadow. She dearly hoped her own were too; she didn't want them revealing more than she intended.

"You've been very sick, Colonel, you couldn't help it."

"Oh?"

She could tell there was more to come and desperately attempted to change the subject.

"The Shaman told me that the Stargate isn't---."

As if she hadn't spoken, Jack continued with his own train of thoughts. "I just wanted to say…. What I mean is…. It can't have been easy."

She stilled, realizing he was finding this more than difficult and so tried to help.

"I didn't notice, Colonel. We were too busy trying to keep you alive."

"I can remember times when I'd come to and you were there, always there. You never let go."

Attempting to lighten the situation, Sam explained softly, "You'd have done the same, Sir."

"Did I talk much when I was out of it?" Jack persisted.

Sam's heart began to beat a little faster and she twisted, treading water. Her voice had an edge of wariness. "Sometimes – most of it was pretty incomprehensible."

"And the rest?"

She began to swim away only to be halted by Jack's insistent voice.

"The rest, Sam?"

She moaned quietly, closing her eyes to hide the pain of remembrance, unwilling to hurt him with his own words and all too aware of the fact that he'd used her first name.

"What was it?"

"Colonel, you were burning up with fever. I… could…." She caught his look and stammered into silence. Her eyes pleaded silently with him to leave this alone. He refused to look away. "Why is this so important to you?" she demanded querulously.

"I don't know. I just need to know."

Damn him for his persistence. "It was Charlie." She held her breath as she watched his eyes close to hide the pain, and then when they opened they were guarded. He turned away abruptly, swimming to the edge. Pulling himself up and out, Sam watched the rivulets of water cascade off his body. He'd lost too much weight.

Although his back was still turned toward her, she could see the shivers begin to cross his body and instantly her protective instincts overcame caution and she hurried to his side, throwing a blanket over his shoulders and cursing herself for failing to see this happening. She could hear his teeth chattering.

She had thought he might demand to be left alone, but as she chivvied him back to their sanctum, he allowed himself to be led quietly and as his shaking increased, Sam placed more blankets over him.

"C...c...cold," he complained softly.

'Damn!' Sam was furious. She had thought the water would complete the cycle of healing. What more could she do? The trembling of his limbs would not cease and without another thought, she threw off her soaking T-shirt and slid beneath the covers, nestling her own warm body against his back. For a while it seemed as if her presence would make no difference as his body continued to shake, but then slowly her own heat began to seep through to Jack's body and the tremors ceased little by little

The rubbing of cold limbs slowly turned to stroking as Sam willed Jack to fall asleep. Maybe then, she promised herself, she could resist the powers of the holy waters.

He moved, almost startling Sam and she shifted slightly away. He turned on his back, one arm again across his eyes, shielding him from an enquiring gaze. He felt the covers being brought up to his chin.

"I thought you'd be sick of mothering me by now," he muttered.

"You're nearly there, Colonel."

"Am I?" He lowered his arm and the pain and hurt were so starkly visible that Sam's hand reached out to stroke his cheek.

"Don't you think you've punished yourself enough, Jack?" It was the first time she'd used his first name and as he tried turning abruptly away from her, she pulled him back forcing him to look at her. "It wasn't your fault!" She pushed on his shoulders to emphasise each word.

"It was MY gun!" he cried out in torment, now struggling to get away, to retreat into the hard, invisible shell he had built up around him since that terrible day. He tried pushing Sam's hands away but she held on resolutely.

"YOU didn't pull the trigger – it was Charlie."

The searing hatred in Jack's eyes burned into her as he fought to extricate himself from her grasp. She knew he could easily hit her and be free, yet some sort of discipline remained.

"Shut up!" he cried in rage.

"He loaded the gun and pulled the trigger. I know it was an accident but it was Charlie who did it!"

When his hand flew back she braced herself, certain he was going to strike her. Yet at the last moment, his movement froze and almost in a trance, he leaned into her shoulder repeating his dead son's name over and over as Sam held him, held him as the torment, anger and anguish seeped out of him. Eventually he grew still and his slow, even breathing assured her that he was asleep. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to extricate her limbs, careful not to disturb his time of inner healing.

"Don't let go."

The words were as soft as a will-o-the-wisp whisper and as Sam froze she wondered if she had imagined them. There was no other indication of this man in her arms being awake but just as slowly she relaxed and lay back with her own senses all too aware of the gentle rise and fall of his breast and the touch of his body against her own.

Visions began to rise up in her mind of the time she had been infected by some strange virus and had tried, forcibly, to seduce her CO. She could, even now, feel the scarlet blush as her memory recalled those events. What would happen now, she wondered, if she initiated some of those movements but at a much gentler pace? She closed her eyes, a silent groan escaping her lips.

"Am I hurting you?" Jack shifted his position alarming her.

Aghast, she realised her mistake. "N…no, no I…I'm fine. I was just thinking---."

"Thinking what?" Dark eyes now turned on her and she felt transfixed.

Why couldn't she be still and stay silent? Her prattling was going to be her downfall and Jack's razor sharp mind could cut through her barriers like a guillotine.

"I…I didn't exactly tell you everything about the holy water, Sir."

"You didn't?"

She shook her head.

"So spill the beans, Captain." The opportunity he offered threatened to open the door to a myriad of conflicting emotions within Sam and she cringed to reveal any.

Slowly, however, Jack reached out and took hold of her chin as he saw something of her inner turmoil and she was forced to look him straight in the eye and feel her pupils grow larger the longer she held his gaze.

"The…the waters do have healing properties – twice now it's helped heal you, with your wound and then your addiction."

She saw him grimace at her choice of words and smiled apologetically.

"So?" Jack still kept hold of her and Sam's heart began to beat stronger and louder until she was sure he must be able to hear and feel it too.

"For me it's different; I wasn't sick, yet it still had an affect."

He looked puzzled. "What sort of affect are we talking about, Carter?"

Feeling the blood rushing to her face, Sam ducked her head trying to turn away.

"You're safe with me," Jack whispered softly.

"But you're not with me." And Sam gently but purposely moved her head towards Jack and brushed her lips softly against his.

She felt his sharp intake of breath and saw the surprise and then her lips and hands became more insistent as her body moved persistently against his. For a frozen moment in time she believed there was an equal response to her passion as she pressed her body against Jack's. And then, suddenly he was holding her at arm's length and her confusion gave way to burning humiliation as she jumped away from him as if scorched by fire.

His face twisting in dismay, Jack moaned, "Hell, Carter, we can't!" He was as breathless as Sam. "I…I can't – it wouldn't be right."

Pulling away and turning from him she felt the shame writhing within her, and she sneered "You mean, it's against regulations."

"No! I…I mean, yes…. Ack, for crying out loud, what I mean is--."

"No need for explanations…, Sir." Her stiff back to him, she cut him off.

"I haven't finished, Sam."

His repeated use of her first name mortified her, urging her to retaliate. "Oh yes you have, Colonel. You've said it all. I'm sorry I embarrassed you – it will never happen again, Sir!"

He watched her as she fought her own agonies just as earlier the roles had been reversed, but this time he could offer no succour, no helping hand, and no shoulder to cry on. He simply daren't.

"Damn it, Carter, I…." His own inability to help her angered him and against his better judgment, seeing how hurt she was, he reached out grabbing her shoulders and turning her. He shook her gently to force her to look at him.

"Listen to me." And as she tried twisting away he shook her harder. "Listen, I said!"

Her sense of self-loathing was so severe she did what she would never have dared do and lashed out at him, kicking him hard on the shin.

Her release was instantaneous and Jack swore loudly and furiously, his black eyes darkening further in pain.

"Why you little hell cat, I ought to---."

"Turn me over your knee, Colonel?" She spat at him scornfully.

"Don't tempt me!" he shot back, giving her a firm push so that she landed hard on her butt. And then, just as suddenly as the confusion and passion had come, it began to clear and to Sam's further mortification she remembered coldly and clearly what had just taken place.

She turned, scrambling away, holding her face in her hands, alarmed at the feelings which had gripped her with an intensity she was unable to control.

For what seemed an age, she remained with her head in her hands, too humiliated to face her CO.

"Carter, are you alright?" There was no longer any anger in Jack's voice, simply concern.

God, how could she face him? "Er… yes, yes, Sir. I am now, Colonel. I…I don't know what got into me. I...I was like something possessed!" She shuddered in revulsion, looking into Jack's eyes, her confusion so apparent that he gave a slight grin in an attempt to defuse the tension.

She couldn't excuse her actions quickly enough.

"Colonel, - the water did it. For you it healed but for those with no sickness it is meant to induce, er…we… I guess you'd call it passion; an increase in libido." Her face continued to burn crimson. Would her misery know no end, she wondered? For she alone knew that though the passion had abated, it would not disappear completely. She closed her eyes feeling the tears pricking at her lids and turning away, she brushed them away before Jack could notice.

"No harm done, Captain. I've forgotten it already. No need to mention it in our reports."

He was doing his best to put Sam at her ease, which made her cringe all the more because he was usually too caught up in his own priorities in ensuring the safety of his team to even notice the delicate nuances of a disturbing atmosphere.

She ducked her head. "Yes, Sir." She was incapable of looking him in the eye and spent more time fastening up her boots than was entirely necessary.

Go to Part 5


	5. Chapter 5

One Too Many Planets Part 5

Their return was met with unqualified jubilation as both Daniel and Teal'c had been forced to accept their loss, having seen the two of them tumble down into the icy torrents of the surging river. They too had been wounded and only just managed to make it through the Stargate; in fact, Daniel was still hospitalized. Unwilling to allow them out of his sight so soon, even General Hammond thought fit to escort his two officers to the infirmary for immediate and thorough medical checks. Only when Dr. Fraiser saw fit to release them would they return for debriefing.

Sitting on a gurney, Jack grinned wryly at Sam as his temperature, blood pressure and other vitals were taken. He turned to the CMO.

"If you're ever short handed Doc, there's someone I could strongly recommend."

"You've never been happy to have me on your team, have you, Sir?" Sam snapped coldly, looking him directly in the eye.

"Wha-at?"

Janet's hands paused in their work as she shot Sam a worried look. The tension between these two officers was all too obvious and startling because of it.

Dismayed at the misunderstanding, Jack attempted to explain himself, but Sam was giving him no such opportunity as she turned on her heel and marched towards the exit.

"Carter." When she refused to stop, Jack's voice hardened as he repeated her name. This time there could be no mistaking his meaning. 'Order - Stop. Order - Turn around and face your commanding officer!'

Just for a fraction of a second she appeared to hesitate and the cold, hard lump that had jumped to Jack's throat almost disintegrated. But the moment passed and she stomped off, leaving her CO swearing under his breath as he jumped off the gurney.

"What was all that about?" Janet's expression showed clearly how startled she was.

"The hell that I know, but I'm gong to find out!" Jack growled coldly.

"Hold it right there, Colonel." Janet's tone matched his.

'What if I just keep on going – just like Carter,' he thought defiantly.

"Colonel?"

He twisted round to face the CMO, his face a black scowl.

"I'm glad you can remember my rank, Major!" he growled, stressing her lower status with heavy irony.

"How could I forget it, Sir?" she snapped back, her eyebrows raised, her own derision just as cutting.

'Damn!' This was one time Jack really wanted to get his own way but the manner in which the diminutive doctor was glowering; he knew he was walking a tightrope over crocodile-infested waters.

He stayed where he was, the challenge still there. But if Janet was correct in her steely observation, she thought, maybe it was just a little dimmer. Well, she'd teach him another lesson if that was how he wanted it, she thought grimly.

Oh, oh – Jack saw the light of battle in her bright eyes and suddenly remembered what she had done when last he'd dared to overstep the mark. He knew he wasn't going to like this one little bit.

"I've got a new junior doctor arriving---."

Crap! "Oh, for crying out loud!"

He brushed an irritable hand through his unruly grey hair, not quite managing to disguise the shudder that crossed his darkened features.

"If I let her loose on you, Colonel, you won't be able to sit for a week, so I suggest you get your butt back on this gurney right now!"

She didn't fail to see the flicker of dread so quickly concealed in those dark, angry eyes and just as speedily she hid the smile behind her severe medical façade.

She turned her back to consult some charts allowing him the dignity to retrace his steps without her eyes on him. When she turned around he had resumed his place, a look of unconcealed irritation marring his stern features.

Janet didn't even hesitate. She knew that look, had lived with it over the past three years and learned fairly soon how to handle it. She was one of very few people who knew how to manage Jack O'Neill when he was in one of those moods.

'Heaven help her,' she thought wryly. 'I wouldn't want to be in Sam's shoes for all the tea in China…'And she wondered what on earth her friend could have done to warrant this unheard of state of affairs?'

The debriefing had already commenced when Sam slipped into the conference room, careful to take a seat nearest to the door and furthest from her CO. Jack had been in the middle of outlining what had happened when the two of them had been separated from Daniel and Teal'c but he paused dramatically, his eyes conveying a deadly though silent censure. Sam's eyes dropped to the desk, her face reddening as she mumbled an apology. She dare not look up as the silence continued, feeling black accusatory eyes drilling into her. It was with intense relief when she heard General Hammond urge the Colonel to continue.

Not once through the entire debrief did she look at him, keeping her eyes firmly on the pad in front of her, only raising her eyes to the General when he interrupted to ask for her confirmation of some matter.

When Jack reached the point where they went to the healing waters, she felt her insides shrink with the shame of her humiliation and though her CO made no mention of what took place between them, still she replayed the entire episode in her head and burned with mortification. She longed for this debrief to end, longed to find a quiet, dark place where she could escape to soothe her battered soul.

She jumped when the General rose to his feet and she cast her eye towards the door and escape. Moistening dry lips, she rose to her feet, her eyes suddenly widening in horror as she surveyed her notepad and realized what her deceitful hand had been doodling whilst her mind had been far away. With one frantic motion she had ripped the page from the pad stuffing the offending paper into her trousers' pocket, painfully aware she had drawn questioning eyes because of her frantic movements. She risked a lightning glance at Jack and regretted it instantly when she saw the look he was throwing her way.

She quelled the impulse to run and hide and waited for the General to excuse them. Protocol had to be adhered to but her instinct for survival made her long to take flight.

"Okay people, you're dismissed, and may I take this opportunity to state how delighted I am, and I know I speak for the rest of the SGC, to have you, Colonel, and you, Captain, back with us."

Sam smiled woodenly and slowly, with control, then she walked to the door, her hand reaching for the handle.

"Captain!"

She closed her eyes momentarily – she'd ignored him once already in the infirmary and wondered bleakly if she dared do it again. She noticed aghast that her hand was trembling and took a deep breath to still her racing heart.

'Turn around, Turn around and face him,' she ordered herself. 'Don't let him see what's in your heart!'

Slowly, as if an age was passing with the feel of a smouldering gaze watching her, Sam twisted her head, though her body refused her command or simply was incapable of responding.

It was almost with relief that the anger she felt directed at her from those black, burning eyes surely meant he was oblivious to what she was feeling? She appeared to slump from the relief but what her CO saw was something entirely different. The lack of respect he felt emanating from his 2IC hurt him more than he would care to admit and he felt himself flinch at past memories when he had had no control and was all too dependent on Sam. Grinding his teeth, he bore down on her.

"Colonel, a word with you please."

Intense relief flowed through Sam's veins at the general's words and she dared to look into Jack's eyes. That comfort was instantly quashed when she read all too clearly a silent, savage message. 'There'll be a next time, Carter, you can count on it.'

He span on his heel, a precise military turn that Jack was rarely known for executing. It told Sam that she was about to receive the full force of her Colonel's anger and she was not going to like it one little bit.

So yes, she had her reprieve for the moment and the panic that had threatened to engulf her slowly receded to a part of her body where she could manage it, at least for the time being.

"Captain Carter, are you not well?"

She jerked, so caught up in her silent voices she had not seen Teal'c approach.

His warm, brown eyes looked concerned and his voice conveyed such gentleness she felt tears begin to well in her eyes and blinked them back rapidly.

"I..I'm fine, Teal'c…." She smiled wanly aware of other brown eyes raking over her. "Just a little tired."

The large Jaffa warrior smiled, nodding. "Would it not be adviseable for you to return to your home to rest"

Sam looked at him gratefully. "Yes, yes, I'll do that. I guess I've missed out on a lot of sleep."

"I will inform Colonel O'Neill of your intentions, Captain Carter."

For a second she wondered where the banging was coming from.

'Damn it!' As she staggered from her bedroom she realized she must have left the T.V. on. Sam groaned and padded silently to the den squinting, perplexed when she realized there were no flickering lights to indicate the set was on.

The banging started again, louder and she grimaced when she realized the noise was coming from her front door. She glanced at her watch – just past eleven p.m. She knew of only one person who would dare to thump on her door in such a manner at this hour.

She leaned wearily against the wall, relieved she had not put on any lights to give away the fact that she was in.

"I know you're in there, Carter. Just open the damned door!"

'And how the hell does he know that?' she asked herself peevishly. 'Can't I have a life? Can't I be out enjoying myself – with someone of the opposite sex? Sex – ugh!' She just didn't need to think about that right now, especially with a certain volatile Colonel on the other side of her door.

The thumping continued.

God – he'd have the neighbours out in force if this continued. Maybe it would teach him a good lesson if the police were called!

There again… She frowned realizing that might just not be in her best interests. She could just visualize the scene.

'Why didn't you open your door, ma'am?'

'Because, officer, I was afraid I might have jumped on him!'

She could even hear herself saying this demurely, wearing her Winnie the Pooh nightshirt. Just the little number to turn a guy on!

She moaned aloud then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Carter? Carter, is that you?" Jack's tone had gone up a notch, no make that ten, in irritation.

She sighed, and opened her hand which held the screwed up piece of paper she had been doodling on earlier. Opening it up, she read the words she had repeated over and over and over and over, shaking her head in disbelief. How long was the effect of the healing waters going to last? Distastefully she screwed the paper back up and flung it across the floor, but whilst she could eliminate the concrete evidence her mind was not that easy to deal with, and like an annoying mantra, the words 'Mrs. Sam O'Neill, Mrs. Jack O'Neill, Captain Sam O'Neill' reverberated round her head in a whirlpool of desire.

The next blow to her door came and she felt it rattling on its hinges. She grimaced.

She was getting rather good at this – how to piss off a really pissed off CO in three easy lessons.

When was he going to get the message, I..AM.NOT.GOING.TO.OPEN.THE.DAMNED.DOOR?

Hah, he must have got her telepathic message as she heard a car door slam and an engine roar angrily to life. An accompanying screech of tyres told her all too well what frame of mind Colonel Jack O'Neill was in. She sank to the floor and dropped her head into her hands. It was going from bad to worse and she just didn't know how this was all going to work out.

After all the rigours of their stay on PX4450, Sam felt a deep need for peace, a respite from all the stress and trauma of off-world travel and, yes, she had to admit wryly, a break from a certain dark-eyed, cantankerous Colonel who had the unerring capacity to send her cart wheeling into chaotic flight at the drop of his cap! She slouched around her home in baggy top and shorts working on her garden, watching junk TV and ignoring the rest of the world.

The phone rang. She wasn't answering that either. She'd even switched off her answering machine and cell phone – the world, she had decided, was going to have to get along without her for a little while. So when that Friday evening the doorbell rang at just after seven, Sam frowned in consternation.

'Who the hell is that?'

"Sam. Sam, come on!"

'Janet?' Her eyes widening in surprise, she hurried to the door and unlocked it to reveal her slightly exasperated friend dressed to the nines in a black silk dress and high heels. She also received a long, hard look until, suddenly, her eyes shot up in horror and the flat of her open palm slapped against her forehead.

"Good grief, Kelly's leaving do. I forgot!"

"You don't say." Janet was not impressed.

"Why didn't you remind me?" Sam didn't wait for an answer as she raced to her bedroom discarding shorts and top on the way.

"I've been phoning all afternoon but you weren't in."

Sam hesitated just about to enter the shower, her face going a deep pink as her guilt revealed itself in no uncertain terms.

Janet's eyebrows shot up. "You weren't in, right, Sam?"

"I…er…I kind of wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone." And she ducked into the cubicle.

"And who might that 'anyone' be? Or maybe I can guess – tall, slim, scar over left eyebrow, grey hair, hands that are never still – need I continue?"

The water from the shower drowned out whatever Sam was saying but Janet guessed there were a few expletives thrown in for good measure.

The party was in full swing by the time they eventually arrived. Captain Kelly Smythe was a popular officer and her leaving gig was well attended.

As the two female officers entered the nightclub, privately hired for the occasion, Sam froze just inside the entrance, her brilliant blue eyes widening in a blaze of panic as Janet just managed to avoid walking into her.

"What if he's here?" She began to twist an earring as her nerves got the better of her.

Slightly alarmed that Sam was so hyped up about her CO, Janet attempted to ease her mind.

"When have you ever known him to attend one of these 'dos'? He's a hockey fiend and I'm pretty sure there's a match on this evening. You've nothing to worry about."

Relief snaked through Sam's veins and she allowed herself a warm smile which instantly lit up her features ensuring that half a dozen men in her vicinity hoped they'd strike lucky this particular evening.

With a couple of glasses of wine already in her system and beginning her third Chablis, Sam was sitting in the middle of a group of men and women enjoying the light banter. She'd actually danced a couple of times, taking pity on Lt. Simmons, probably making his day, possibly his month, by accepting his invitation to dance. As she listened to Kelly tell yet another hilarious story about her experiences with the SGC, Sam allowed her eyes to wander round the large crowded room

Her eyes crinkled at the sight of Daniel hemmed in a corner by Lt. Jane Alers. Everyone in Cheyenne Mountain knew she had a thing about Daniel and it appeared she was making the most of her opportunities, few as they were, to grab his sole and undivided attention. Sam studied SG1's archaeologist and decided he didn't look in any way in need of rescuing, so she moved her gaze on.

Cool, dark eyes appraising her icily froze her for an age until she tore her gaze away and turning was able – just – to laugh hysterically at the punch line Kelly had reached so fortuitously. Quaffing her half full glass in one gulp, she turned wildly to Janet, whispering, "I've got to go!"

"The Ladies are over there," Janet said, misunderstanding and pointing helpfully in the direction of the powder room through the middle of the dance floor.

Shaking her head, eyes wide with apprehension, Sam mumbled, "I'm leaving."

"Wh-at?" Janet was shocked.

"I've just remembered – I've forgotten to………to," her mind had gone blank and then inspiration appeared, "to feed the cat!" She almost felt proud of herself.

Janet looked askance while Kelly, who had caught the last part of the conversation, shook her head and yelled above the noise for someone to dance with her and Sam. Immediately, four love struck airmen threw themselves at the couple eager to please.

Sam, face tight with tension, shook her head but Janet, who had now seen the reason for Sam's jitters, placed a restraining hand on her shoulder with the whispered advice, "Better to face him here in front of friends than back at the base," which halted her headlong flight.

Looking up, Sam realized Lt. Simmons, his grey-green eyes staring into her eyes with puppy dog devotion expecting a refusal but still willing to risk a beating just in case, was standing before her. She gave him a good, long look then made up her mind and gave him a tentative nod, somewhat taken aback by his delirious smile.

Well, she thought, if this was all it took to bring joy into the world…

She followed him through the crowd onto the dance floor, relieved that she could lose herself and her partner among all the other dancers.

Kelly caught her eye and did a dramatic twirl, dropping to do the splits then leaping up again in time with the Latino beat. Onlookers roared their approval and even Sam found herself caught up in the madness as she allowed herself to be whirled expertly at the hands of her partner. She found herself pleasantly surprised by Lt. Simmon's dancing abilities and smiled her approval, enjoying having someone lead her so well to the rhythm of the music.

When the music ended and she attempted to leave the floor, the Lieutenant, sensing her delight with not only the music but with him, coaxed her to stay so that she took to the floor again, her satin navy trousers and peacock blue mandarin top creating a blur of colour as she moved to the frenetic beat.

She was breathing deeply when she rejoined her group, a thin sheen of perspiration covering her brow, her blue eyes sparkling with pleasure. She turned to Janet wanting to know why she wasn't up there making a spectacle of herself when, abruptly, she impacted with dark brown eyes which were observing her with a look she couldn't deduce.

She reached for her glass, aware in the back of her mind that it had been refilled, unaware that she had downed it in one go.

"Easy, easy – there's still the rest of the evening girl," Janet advocated, following Sam's gaze to where Jack was in happy dialogue with Kelly across the table. Already high as a kite, the guest of honour burst into amused laughter, a hand flying to her mouth at something O'Neill had said. Sam watched as her friend hit her CO playfully on the shoulder and then turned to Sam, her eyes rolling dramatically, "Sam, you never told me what a dangerous man your CO is!"

It was fortunate Kelly didn't wait for some sort of response as Sam's vocal chords simply refused to operate. And as she attempted to distance herself from the couple sitting opposite, she felt Janet's comforting hand on her knee willing her to raise her spirits.

Cheering from across the table had them both suddenly looking up to see Kelly being well and truly kissed by none other than Colonel Jack O'Neill.

Swallowing painfully, yet unable to turn away from the distressing sight, Sam's dark eyes locked on the entwined couple as if by magnetic force and as the conjoined couple continued their amorous display to the obvious enjoyment of the spectators surrounding them, Sam could feel a leaden knot twisting inside her. Her despair increased tenfold when she realized Kelly had grabbed her CO's hand and was dragging him, albeit reluctantly, onto the dance floor.

Vaguely, she was aware the music was titled 'Kiss' – she grimaced – well, someone had a great sense of humour. Or not!

"I need a drink."

"Of water," Janet interjected, removing the wine glass from her friend's trembling hand. "Come on, let's walk to the bar."

"Yea, yea okay." Sam's eyes had turned dull as she rose, walking determinedly past the dancers, attempting to erase the picture of one particular couple dancing way too close for comfort.

"I didn't know he liked to dance."

Sam blinked as Janet's words penetrated her own troubled thoughts.

"I didn't know he could dance."

"Seems to have made quite a hit with Kelly."

Sam frowned. "Yea, well she knows she won't have to face him again."

"You know," Janet's voice had risen in surprise, "I never realized she looked so much like you."

"Wha-at?" That did get Sam's attention.

"Yea – similar hair cut, colour, height, weight. In uniform it never struck me."

Sam snorted sarcastically. "Well I wonder why? Could it be that Kelly's always in Class As and I'm in grubby BDUs?"

Janet grinned, relieved to see her friend joking, even if it was against herself. She pressed a tall glass of water into Sam's hand with a stern command to drink.

"Anyone would think I'm drunk," she complained lightly.

"You're half way there, girl."

"No I'm not!" she shot back, scowling as the water went down her throat.

'He kissed her!' she thought desperately, 'He kissed her willingly. No pulling away making dumb excuses about regulations.' She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the picture replaying in her brain.

"You okay?" Janet was staring at her, a concerned frown playing on her features.

No! "Yes, yes, I'm fine." She raised her glass and smiled stiffly. "This stuff is hitting the spot."

Hitting – yes, she wanted to hit him – hard. Very hard. Right where it hurt the most. How could he do this to her? He was mocking her – it was a slap in the face.

She could feel tears surfacing and rubbed the bridge of her nose hard to try and stifle them.

"Headache?" Janet never forgot her job.

"Mmmm." Sam nodded, screwing her eyes shut.

She was dimly aware of the live group coming back on stage and then the music and words swooped along her auditory senses leaving her trembling and in pain.

'Nooooo. It can't be.' Her mind in total disarray, all she longed to do was take flight. She didn't care who saw her or what anyone thought. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

She put her glass down on the bar turning on her heel at the same time, dimly aware of someone tall standing, blocking her way.

"I believe, Captain Carter, this dance was promised to me."

Baffled, Sam's brain cleared enough for her to realise Teal'c was looking down on her benevolently, then taking her hand, he gently led her onto the dance floor, and just as carefully, he took her into his arms and held her while the pain of the music washed over her.

What ravages of spirit

Conjured this tempestuous rage

Created you a monster

Broken by the rules of love

And fate has led you through it

You do what you have to do

And fate has led you through it

You do what you have to do…

And I have the sense to recognise that

I don't know how to let you go.

Every moment marked

With apparitions of your soul

I'm ever swiftly moving

Trying to escape this desire

The yearning to be near you

I do what I have to do

The yearning to be near you

I do what I have to do

She felt the lump in her throat tighten as she remembered holding Jack back in the cave. And for a moment, just a brief wonderful moment, hadn't he responded?

As if sensing her distress, Teal'c led her in the dance, holding her so no one could view her anguish. He felt her stiffen as the tears came, ready to run.

"Do not distress yourself, Captain Carter – I will remain thus for as long as you require me."

And slowly she relaxed and let the words of the song enter her very being.

But I have the sense to recognise

That I don't know how to let you go

I don't know how to let you go.

Carefully, concealing most of her face in Teal'c's solid shoulder, she moved to allow herself the torment of seeing Jack with his partner. They were dancing body to body – impossible to get any closer – she grimaced and at that moment felt powerful penetrating brown eyes on her. She retreated behind Teal'c's shoulder trying to make herself smaller.

A glowing ember burning hot

Burning slow

Deep within I'm shaken by the violence

Of existing for only you

I know I can't be with you

I do what I have to do

I know I can't be with you

I do what I have to do

And I have the sense to recognise but

I don't know how to let you go

I don't know how to let you go

I don't know how to let you go.

The choice of song had been chosen by Kelly's friends who joined in the chorus lustily and enthusiastically, shouting at the tops of their inebriated voices 'I don't know how to let you go.'

But for Sam, the choice of song had a far deeper meaning. She ached but in her hurt she felt Teal'c engulfing her with comfort, offering her his protection as a buffer against whatever troubled her; asking no questions, simply being there for her.

She sniffed, looking up into his soft brown eyes and she smiled letting him know she was okay.

"Thank you, Teal'c….I……I needed that."

The music had stopped yet they continued to dance, heedless of the silence.

"You are most welcome, Captain Carter. I am not accustomed to this form of movement but it is, nonetheless, pleasant in its own way."

Suddenly realizing that couples were staring at them slightly amused, Sam's eyes grew large and she took Teal'c's hand, leading him back to Janet at the bar.

As Teal'c handed her back into the safekeeping of her friend, he surveyed her carefully noting the lack of sparkle and the almost hidden pain in her eyes.

"I must thank you again. If you should ever require me for this activity in the future, I will be at your disposal."

Sam blinked, looking up at him, a tentative smile on her lips. "Thank you, Teal'c. It's good to know I can count on you."

He inclined his head gently and returned to wherever he'd been before, leaving Sam grateful for his strength and support as well as his calming influence.

"I need some fresh air – I'll be back." And before Janet could discuss this more, she was gone.

She'd intended going on the balcony, but she should have known there'd be a mass of people already there and Sam was in need of solitude, the healing kind which came from having no one else around whilst she wrestled with her own inner demons.

She wandered into the lantern lit gardens, shivering in the night air, smelling the dampness of the garden, and found a secluded bench overlooking the small, manmade lake. She was vaguely aware of the noise still emanating from the party – laughter and music, people yelling. Fortunately, it was a bitter night and few people considered staying out for long.

Well, she thought wryly, this was as good a send off as Kelly could ever have hoped for, down to having her very own Colonel pull out all the stops. She saw again the embrace, the hold, the kiss. Good grief, they had practically undergone a tonsillectomy!

Unable to stay sitting, she began to pace up and down on the lawns, kicking off her shoes and enjoying the feel of the soft, velvety grass beneath her toes.

The deep pain within her had lessened to a dull ache which she was acutely aware could flare into unbearable torment if she didn't get a hold on her emotions.

'Damn that healing water! Damn PX4450, and damn herself for a smartass captain getting herself involved with an equally hard ass Colonel!'

"Talking to yourself, Carter?"

She froze, furious that she'd allowed herself to be trapped this way. Her eyes twisted from side to side aware that a high trellis fence separated the garden from the car park while on the opposite side the gardens merged into the dense undergrowth of a wood.

And where the hell were her shoes?

She lowered her eyes trying to see them from the meager light cast by a nearby lantern.

"Looking for something?"

She sensed dry amusement in his voice and whirled around incensed at seeing her footwear held in one of his hands. She reached out to grab them.

"Ah ah." He held them just out of her reach. "Isn't there something you should say first?"

'He's got to be kidding,' she thought wildly, enraged that he was behaving so high handed with her.

"They are my shoes!" she spat through gritted teeth, making one more futile attempt to grab them, well aware how churlish she was sounding and not caring one iota.

"It still doesn't mean you can get away with a lack of manners."

"Manners!" she echoed giving a derisory laugh at hearing these farcical words from her Colonel. She stabbed a finger towards his chest. "That's hilarious coming from you!" Her voice was cuttingly thin and she noticed a dark frown cross Jack's features at the ugliness of her tone.

"Careful, Captain." He was warning her not to overstep the mark but she was past caring. Visions of him enfolding Kelly in his arms seared her mind and a jealous rage overwhelmed her reasoning.

She pushed him hard, and unprepared for the assault, he fell back perhaps more surprised than Sam that he wasn't so rock solidly immoveable.

"I didn't think you needed your rank to protect you – Sir." Her last word was thrown at him as an insult and even in the shadows she saw the blood rush to his face as his jaw hardened.

"I think you've said enough, Carter."

"I haven't even started," she cried hotly as she moved to push him once too often.

He grabbed her arm, spinning her round, pinioning her against his body, using her own arms to cross over her holding her prisoner. When she looked as if she would lash back with her foot, Jack merely sidestepped and hooked a leg round her own legs. She struggled desperately but his grip was firm.

"Are you going to behave?"

She stilled, and just when she thought he'd lowered his guard, feeling him relax, she slammed her bare heel hard against his shin, satisfaction coursing through her when she felt his hold loosen and heard him swear.

She shot out of his grip, aware that his hands had attempted to grab her again. She shied away heading for the thick undergrowth and freedom until a sharp yank on her collar stopped her in her tracks. She twisted away but this time another hand grabbed the belt of her trousers.

"Carter, what the hell's gotten into you?" Exasperation vied with his anger.

"Let me go!" She struggled ineffectively.

"Not until you stop acting like a demented three year old."

What was agonizingly frustrating for Sam now was that Jack had got such a firm hold on her she was prevented from making any kind of serious contact with his body. All she wanted to do was hurt him, to try and stop the pain inside her own body.

Endeavouring to break loose, she flailed with her arms and legs, her rage increasing in line with her impotence.

"How long do you intend keeping this up, Carter?" He sounded bored.

She stilled, heart beating as the blood thundered in her ears, gasping for air.

"Had enough, 'cos I sure as hell have?" She felt her scruff being shaken to emphasise her captor's superiority. "I'm going to let go now and you're going to pick up your shoes and put them on while I quietly disappear."

She wasn't sure whether it was his annoying tone of voice making her feel two inches tall or not, but the moment she felt herself released she swung.

Contact was solid and painful for both of them. Sam had a moment in time to see Jack's black eyes flash with confusion and then something infinitely more dangerous took over. And as realisation struck her like an ice cold shower, she stared in horror at the blood dripping from his split lip.

"Oh, God." She stumbled backwards, caught like a rabbit in his burning glare.

"HE isn't going to help you now, Carter." His voice, devoid of all emotion, pierced her body like stinging arrows.

"I…I'm sorry!"

"You will be……Payback can be such a bitch!"

Appalled at her own behaviour, yet aware of the sinister threat, Sam could only back away, frightened eyes glued to her CO's, as Jack followed her step for step.

"I……I just don't know what came over me!" she spluttered.

"Oh, you soon will, Carter, – that I promise."

The threat was all too clear as Sam's eyes dropped to his right hand which was flexing. She dared to look back into his eyes and saw the barely controlled anger bubbling there.

"Sir, I…I… think we should talk."

"Tried that."

Casting a hasty glance over her shoulder, Sam realized that if she wasn't careful she was going to end up in the black lake. Was he going to force her into the freezing water?

It's pretty cold in there."

Black eyes seared her own.

"Don't worry, when my hand makes contact with the seat of your pants, you'll soon warm up."

As the ghastly realization hit her, Sam dared to cast her imploring blue eyes up and what she saw made her cringe.

"You can't do that."

"Really?" His tone mocked her mercilessly.

"It's against regulations." She was getting desperate.

He gave a sharp bark of humourless laughter. "Like not hitting your CO?"

She cringed at the memory, unable to believe what had, only moments earlier, taken place.

"Sir, look," her eyes, open wide, pleaded, "we're two grown adults. We don't have to resort to violence."

In the freezing moonlight his bleeding lip made a cold mockery of her words.

"Negative on that, Carter. I'm the adult – you're the spoilt brat who's going to get some well deserved retribution."

The gleam of fixed determination in his eye had Sam's heart plummeting yet she knew she had to avoid such humiliation at all costs.

It was a matter of yards to the lake's edge; it was now or never.

She feigned to her left then as Jack reached out, she veered right, dropped to her knees, shot forward, and scrambled to freedom. Desperation gave her the extra thrust to evade his outstretched hands, then she was up and running, running for all her life as if a pack of Goa'uld were on her tail.

Go to Part 6


	6. Chapter 6

One Too Many Planets Part 6

"Where are your shoes?"

Sam found it difficult to give her attention to Janet's question as she laboured to bring her ragged breathing under control, to appear normal, relaxed. Relaxed! She was as taut as a new violin string and ready to snap as she faced her friend, attempting to project something she was incapable of doing.

"I…I must have left them in the gardens."

"Well go and get them." Janet was looking slightly perplexed at Sam's vagueness. "Are you alright?"

"I'm going to head home." And seeing her friend's surprise, jumped in, "No need for you to leave – I've got this pounding headache – an early night will do me a world of good. I'll take a taxi."

"Taxi? No – that's nonsense, if you'll give me--."

"I'm heading off now, I can drop you".

His words held no menace, no hint of hidden danger lurking beneath the calm surface. Janet turned to the head of SG-1, a wide smile on her face, completely missing the significant paling of her friend as the blood drained from her face.

Janet started, "That'll be---."

"No!" Sam grimaced in discomfort, she really hadn't meant to speak so strongly. 'Good grief, Janet would think she'd gone completely overboard. But hadn't she?' She forced herself to look up at Jack. He appeared so normal she thought wildly, down to a faint smile playing on his lips – only , she realised, it didn't reach his eyes – they were bottomless pools of darkness in which she knew she could easily drown. She couldn't help the shiver that travelled the length of her body.

"Are you coming down with something?"

Ever the caring doctor, Janet's hand reached out to feel Sam's head and cheeks.

"Maybe these will help."

Jack held out the navy blue leather court shoes.

"You found them." Janet seemed delighted.

"I never knew you'd lost them," Jack replied softly, eyes never leaving his 2IC'S, waiting for Sam to take them. Reluctantly, she reached out making sure she didn't touch him in any way.

"What happened to you?"

Sam ducked her head – she knew what Janet was alluding to very well.

"I fell over a pair of shoes."

'Well he wasn't going to admit that a woman had done it – not Mr. Macho O'Neill.'

She sneaked a hasty peek – his bottom lip was quite swollen now and the cut, she knew, must sting pretty badly.

"Sam, look what you've caused," rebuked Janet. "I'm surprised you're not making her walk home as punishment," she joked, unaware how Sam's eyes had narrowed in alarm.

"Oh, I'll think of something," he drawled lazily, the menace all too clear to Sam.

Janet grinned at his mocking tone unaware of the tension.

"You ready, Carter?"

How did he manage to keep his voice so neutral she wondered, aware that her own vocal chords were practically seizing up?

"I…I...think, maybe I'll stay. My--."

"Oh no," ordered Janet, suddenly adopting a domineering attitude. "You feel slightly feverish to me. A hot drink, two Tylenol and bed. Doctor's orders."

Feeling as if everything around her were spinning out of control, Sam stiffened as a firm grip on her arm had her moving away, held close against her CO's side. She tensed as if testing his reflexes and felt a corresponding tightening of her arm.

"You're hurting me," she muttered through gritted teeth.

"I haven't even started," he threatened softly.

Frantically, she searched anyone and everyone she passed hoping for a lifeline, but there was no one she could call on to make an escape and as they walked to Jack's car in ominous silence, she knew she had lost any opportunity to get away.

When he opened her door, he waited until she'd belted in before he moved to his own side.

The drive was conducted in total silence.

'Damn the man,' she thought testily. 'He's leaving me to wallow in misery.'

She peered at him from the corner of her eye noting his rigid jaw and stiff back. A man rarely still, she noted with growing alarm, his hands on the driving wheel. She was still staring at them when the truck pulled up in front of her house.

She would have raced to the safety of her own home except, as her hand moved to the car's door handle, Jack's clipped order to "sit still" froze her to her seat.

She stared out of the window afraid of what she would see if she looked into his eyes.

'Deal with it,' she ordered herself harshly. "I…I… realise what I've done is inexcusable sir….I still don't know…." She shook her head in misery, still unable to look him in the eye. "Tomorrow I'm going to go to General Hammond and request a transfer to another SG team. I understand my position is untenable, so I'll--."

"Shut up, Carter." His voice was frigid as he turned the full glare of his rage on her.

She dropped her head, staring into her lap.

"If you think you can walk away from SG-1 as easily as that, forget it."

His tone was bitingly severe and Sam could feel tears prickling the backs of her eyes threatening to spill over. Fighting back their onslaught, refusing to show such feminine weakness at a time when she must, at all costs, be absolutely, implacably strong, she clenched her fists, feeling her nails biting into her flesh, her emotions forced to concentrate on the pain there, allowing her to gain control over the weakness of crying.

"On Tuesday you'll report as per normal. You will do your job like everyone else, Carter, and you will not run away the first moment things get a little tough for you."

Her eyes flared at the injustice of his words but she remained silent.

"Should you make such a request to General Hammond, my only course of action will be to recommend you be removed from the SGC altogether."

Her sharp intake of breath was enough to show how shocked she was, and her head shot up as she dared to face Jack's withering glare.

"Colonel, that's not---."

"That's my final word, Captain. Now get out!"

She recoiled as if physically slapped, her confusion and misery palpable in every small gesture she made. As she reached for the door handle her hand trembled violently but what she was experiencing wasn't a loss of nerves but rather a deep and bleak resentment.

She paused as she was about to step down, raking Jack with her own icy glare.

'Bastard!' "You know, Colonel, there's one thing I regret," and she paused for effect knowing her CO was anticipating something profound, "I wish I'd bloodied your other lip!" And so saying, she slammed the door shut, marching stiff-backed to her home.

It was only when she was safely behind her own locked door that she allowed herself the release she so desperately craved, and sinking to the floor, she pulled her knees up to her chest resting her head on them and allowed herself the opportunity to weep, huge wracking sobs escaping her body.

She checked her watch, swore under her breath and broke into a run. If she hurried she just might... Ice cold eyes raked her from head to foot as she raced into the gate room.

"You're late!"

She dared to glance at the clock on the wall which showed she was ten seconds out. She knew better than to argue.

"Do you intend making a habit of this, Captain?" The words were whiplash hard.

"Sorry, Sir."

"I asked you a question, Carter."

Sam grimaced. This was worse than she'd anticipated. She could feel Daniel's eyes moving between her and Jack, a puzzled frown marring his features. She stiffened, her eyes looking somewhere past her CO's shoulders.

"No, Sir. It won't happen again."

"You can bet on that!"

As they waited for the chevrons to connect, Daniel sidled up to Sam.

"What was all that about?" he whispered.

She could feel Jack's angry glare still on her and merely shook her head. Once through the gate, Sam was assigned lead with Daniel and Teal'c following. Jack brought up the rear and Daniel dropped back to walk side by side with his friend.

"You okay?"

"Just peachy."

From the tone Jack used everyone who knew him realized he was in no mood for social chit chat. Not Daniel Jackson.

"You don't sound it."

"Well I am."

"Don't you think you were a little hard on Sam in the gate room?"

"Nope, discussion over."

"How long's it gonna take?"

Daniel winced as if a particularly bad headache had just hit him. He sighed dramatically, never taking his eyes off the hieroglyphics on the cave wall.

"You asked me that same question not five minutes ago, Jack, and I told you then – I don't know. Maybe Sam's had a breakthrough in the next chamber – why don't you go check?"

He knew he was being completely unfair in attempting to get rid of Jack by pushing him onto Sam, but Daniel was desperate to put his total concentration on the work at hand, and while an irritable Colonel tramped up and down behind him asking the same question every few minutes, it was all but proving impossible.

"How's it going, Teal'c?"

"It will be necessary to put this question to Captain Carter, O'Neill. It appears some of the writings are pre-Goa'uld but Iam unfamiliar with the inscriptions."

Whether Sam had heard or not she didn't speak and Jack waited to see if she'd be forthcoming. She wasn't.

"Report, Carter."

It wasn't the usual request and Teal'c raised one eyebrow to show his surprise at Jack's tone.

"Nothing as yet, Sir." Sam kept her own accent neutral.

"How much longer?" His words were clipped.

"Hard to say, Colonel."

"Try!" he snapped.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Sir." Sam knew she shouldn't have allowed her mouth to run off like that, it couldn't do any good.

"Fine, you've got another two hours."

'Damn – she should have known.' "That's not--."

Eyes flashing, her CO faced her off. "You heard me, Captain, and the less time you spend arguing the more time you can put to productive use."

Sam turned away, biting her lip to prevent herself from saying anything else she might regret.

'He's being impossible,' she thought irritably, 'a full blown O'Neill temper tantrum.' The sort she had rarely seen and of which she had never been at the receiving end.

She sighed, not realizing it carried. "You have a problem with that, Carter?"

She closed her eyes, counting slowly to ten. "No…, Sir."

As Jack left the cavern he felt Teal'c's disapproval which served to put him in an ever darker frame of mind.

Stomping back to Daniel, he glared at the young archaeologist.

"Tell me you've found something to make our visit to this Godforsaken place worthwhile."

Daniel's sigh matched oneJack had listened to only moments earlier.

'Is this a new form of communication I haven't quite mastered yet?" he snapped, making Daniel stop his work in exasperation.

"What's got into you, Jack? You're like a bear with a sore head. You've laid into Sam at every opportunity and you're making it nigh on impossible for any of us to do our jobs." Daniel stared hard at O'Neill trying to find an answer to this puzzle.

Jack returned the look, his jaw taut, tight lines around his eyes. He seemed about to speak then suddenly turned on his heel and marched a distance away, standing alert, his weapon raised, every fibre in his body tensed for action.

Daniel watched his friend, shaking his head.

Whatever had happened between him and Sam, it needed sorting if only for the sanity of the rest of SG-1. He muttered something about adolescent love under his breath, smiled ruefully and turned back to his work.

Back in her cave, Sam's breath suddenly caught in her throat and the symbols which had been causing her such tribulation suddenly opened up to reveal mysteries which caused her heart to lift in excitement and to shake off the heavy hurt it had been feeling these past days.

"Teal'c," her voice could not hide her elation. "Could you ask Daniel to come here – I think I've found something."

For the first time in a long time Teal'c saw her with eyes glowing, a smile lighting up her pale face.

He nodded and silently did as she bid.

"What's going on?"

Even Jack's appearance couldn't dim her enthusiasm and as Daniel appeared at his back followed closely by Teal'c, Sam leaped into a high tech explanation which left Jack grinding his teeth. As Daniel appeared to be following it all without difficulty, Jack remained silent for as long as he could, which wasn't long.

"Can we cut to the bare bones, please?"

Sam stopped mid flow – in her excitement she had forgotten to throw in an overly simple explanation.

But already Daniel had taken over, for having been given the key he was able to read, "What it appears to be saying is that a race of people has formulated a method of transporting – not using a stargate, to prevent the demons from following."

"How?"

"That's all I've got so far… except there's something about a warning and…," he frowned, deep in concentration, "something about a special power."

Jack looked at his watch.

"Okay, we move out in an hour. I want--."

"Jack, you can't! This is an incredible piece of--."

"An hour, unless you'd like me to revise that to five minutes."

His tone was uncompromising as he glared at the younger man and Sam knew she would be doing Daniel no favours if she attempted to dissuade the Colonel. As he and the Jaffa warrior returned to the next cave, Sam remained silent, moving her hands over the stone monolith somehow sensing that there may still be some key to what lay hidden.

As her fingers touched an unknown symbol, she felt the earth lurch crazily beneath her feet. She cried out as she was violently thrown off balance and began to fall. Looking up, she was aware of Jack's startled face as he turned to her, throwing himself towards her, grabbing her outstretched hand.

As she felt the ground disappear beneath her feet, her frightened eyes clamped on Jack's wild face as she fought to retain the hold on his hand, aware of the sweat that made that act nigh impossible.

"H…old on, Carter." Jack's face contorted in agony as his body fought to maintain its hold. He could see the harrowing fear in her eyes as their hands began to separate.

Where the hell were Teal'c and Daniel?

The earth tilted again, rolling him and he felt a force crash into his shoulder, the impact wrenching his arm loose. He yelled as he saw his 2IC drop from sight until a blackness enveloped him, claiming his senses.

He groped his way through the darkness, pushing against the heavy weight which threatened to pull him down into a darker abyss. He screamed out Carter's name, his eyes burning with a liquid which filled them and blinked. Sam's face, rigid with anguish, swam up at him causing him to renew his battle to break free.

The excruciating pain made him realise that he was returning to the land of the living. From a distance he heard the sound of someone moaning in pain and felt hands touching his body. He yelped as bones were pressed in his arm.

"Broken" he heard a disembodied voice speak and attempted to push himself up only to feel a strong force pressing down on his body.

"God damnit," why wasn't he being released?

"Be still, O'Neill." The voice was calm, assertive – Teal'c.

"Carter?"

No one answered.

He rolled onto his side, better to push himself up and managed to sit up using his good arm, great gasps of breath wheezing from him as he fought the pain and nausea. He opened one eye, felt the world start to spin and quickly closed it again. Rubbing his cheek he felt his hand come away wet and slick – too sticky to be water.

Slowly he opened both eyes and held up his fingers – lots of red. Well at least he wasn't blind, or colour blind.

"Take it easy, Jack."

His eyes looked up to see Daniel looking down on him, his hand holding a dressingto his forehead, pain all too clear in his dazed, blue eyes.

"Where's Sam?"

"Carter!" Jack lurched up searching for the gaping hole, crying out as his left arm protested the unwelcome movement. He blinked unsteadily, unprepared for the lack of anything resembling a chasm in the ground.

"You are injured, O'Neill, you must be still while I--."

"Wh-at the hell! There was a great big f-cking hole, Carter fell into it!" He looked frantically around in case he had been moved whilst unconscious. He cursed as his legs refused to support him and felt hands steady him as he collapsed. "Help me up!"

Teal'c's hands reached out but instead of helping him up they were again pressing him down.

"You have lost much blood, O'Neill, you must allow me to--."

"We've got to find Carter!" His eyes blazed with feverish brightness locking onto the Jaffa's brown eyes.

"I will endeavour to do as you ask once I get you and Daniel Jackson back to the Stargate. You are both injured and in need of medical assistance."

"Negative, Teal'c. Just help me up for God's sake." He held out his good hand and much to his relief Teal'c grabbed it. His relief was short lived, however, as Teal'c's strong force heaved him not only onto his feet, but up and over the Jaffa's enormous shoulder.

The world span whilst Jack fought to hold onto the contents of his heaving stomach; he swore intensely and struggled ineffectively. Teal'c merely tightened his hold.

"Dammit, Teal'c, put me down," he gasped harshly.

"I cannot do that, O'Neill. Your injuries demand that I get you back to Dr. Fraiser with all speed. Dr. Jackson has also suffered injuries – you are both unfit to continue."

Draped over Teal'c's shoulder in a fireman's hold, Jack could feel his senses swirling.

"I'm giving you a direct order. Put. Me. The. Hell. Down!"

"The only place you're going is the infirmary, Jack. Teal'c will come back and look for Sam."

"No one gets left behind."

He could feel his faculties dimming and knew it was from blood loss. He had to find Sam. He struggled to break free and felt something move in his shoulder. Hegroaned in agony and knew nothing more.

He could feel hard stone beneath him and wondered for a moment where he was – certainly not the infirmary, unless they'd gone in for a new form of support bedding. Heswallowed as pain stabbed his arm and shoulder, easing his body into what he hoped was a more comfortable position.

Feeling a hand on his arm, he turned his head finding Daniel watching him anxiously.

"You okay, Jack?"

Not trusting his voice just yet, he nodded and instantly wished he hadn't as burning acid rose to his throat. He grimaced, unable to push away the thick fog that enveloped his skull. He knew there was something he desperately needed to remember and looking around, he saw Teal'c dialing the code for home. He sighed – it would be good to be home. He looked past Daniel, his brow knitting in confusion. Where was she? He tried easing himself up and hissed as a bolt of agony shot through him.

"Car-ter?" His voice sounded pathetically weak to his own ears.

"Try not to move around, Jack – you've got more than one break – your arm's messed up. Janet will --."

"Where's Carter?"

Daniel unsuccessfully attempted to evade Jack's penetrating glare; he looked utterly miserable.

At that moment the wormhole whooshed into life and Teal'c was before him, reaching down gently.

Knowing full well his leader's desire to maintain his dignity in front of others, the Jaffa was willing to help support Jack through the vortex if he could manage to stay on his feet, but Jack swatted the large man's helping hand away.

He rubbed at his aching head aware that he was missing something critically vital.

"The sooner I get you home, O'Neill, the sooner I can turn my attention to locating Captain Carter."

The connection made, Jack's brain went into overdrive as his memory kicked in and he relived the moment whenSam haddropped from sight. As his eyes took on a dark, haunted look he allowed the Jaffa to help him to his feet, accepting the steadying hand whilst the world turned a double cartwheel.

"I'm staying here."

"Negative, Jack. Dr. Fraiser will skin me alive if you aren't in her infirmary in the next two minutes."

"I do not believe Dr. Fraiser will resort to such barbaric methods, Daniel Jackson; however, if we fail to deliver you, O'Neill, into her hands, there will be dire consequences."

"F-ck the consequences – you'll survive – it's Carter I'm concerned about and I'm not about to – hey! Teal'c don't! What the hell are you doing?"

Ignoring his brother-in-arm's violent protests, Teal'c took Jack's good arm over his shoulder whilst supporting him round his lower back.

"You have lost too much blood, O'Neill – it is your turn to rest while I try and ascertain what has happened to Captain Carter."

Jack's attempts to hold back were nothing in the face of the huge warrior's determination and, in the end, Teal'c simply scooped the injured man up in his arms, carrying him as if he were a small child.

Once on the other side, he marched down the ramp and deposited his complaining burden onto a waiting gurney.

As Dr. Fraiser went into full medical mode, Jack decided to roll off the moving bed and, if it hadn't been for Teal'c's and Janet's arms shooting out to save him, no doubt he would have suffered further injuries.

"Colonel, if you don't stay still, I'll have to use restraints."

The CMO could hear General Hammond asking where Captain Carter was and Daniel, obviously hurt but able to walk, advising that she was missing.

Ah! Now she understood the gravity of the situation but she had to force the worry for her friend to the back of her mind, but at least a weak and struggling Colonel was making more sense. She nodded at one of her nurses who was hovering with a syringe.

Jack saw it coming and tried to escape, but too many hands were holding him down. He triedcalling out to the General to allow him to return but the sharp sting in his arm warned him seconds before he blacked out that his request was futile.

Go to Part 7


	7. Chapter 7

One Too Many Planets Part 7

"How are they doing, Doctor?"

Janet looked up from her notes, rubbing the heel of her hand against her throbbing head.

"Daniel's an overnighter – twelve stitches to the forehead – no complications. He'll be back checking his artefacts in next to no time, Sir. Colonel O'Neill, on the other hand, sustained two fractures to his left arm. He also suffered a concussion and needed several stitches in his scalp."

She saw the General wince and sympathized – it seemed his 2IC couldn't go out on a mission without ending up in the infirmary.

"He'll be here for some time, General."

She looked through her partially open door, her view of O'Neill uninterrupted. He lay in his usual bed, face ashen even against the white sheets and pillow, his left arm in a cast and placed in a sling across his chest. He appeared to be dreaming as she could see him twitching in his sleep.

He could see her, arms extended to him, face twisted in panic and fear. She was crying out, "Help me, help me!" over and over as he strained to get closer. As he stretched his body to reach her, invisible forces pulled him back the moment his fingertips touched hers. And still she pleaded with him, her eyes tormenting him with her silent condemnation as he called her name, he in turn begging her to reach out for him.

"Did Dr. Jackson mention anything at all to you about Major Carter's disappearance?"

Janet glanced back at the General, seeing the worry before it was hidden behind a mask – so like Jack, she thought wryly.

"No, Sir. He couldn't provide anything other than the fact that he believed she was working in the next cave. He did say Colonel O'Neill kept crying out that she'd fallen down some sort of hole, but there was nothing to show where she'd disappeared, if she did. There was some sort of seismic activity, an earthquake, which resulted in Daniel's and Colonel O'Neill's injuries but as for what happened to the Major, she appears to have disappeared into thin air."

-------------------------------------

She smiled as the elderly woman approached her, arms full of what she could only surmise to be clothes. She sat up in bed, pulling the cover up to cover her nakedness. She had awoken to find herself on a pallet of furs, divest of clothes, obviously washed, which caused her to blush at the thought of unknown people removing her clothing and bathing her. And yet why she was there she did not know. She massaged her left temple with the tips of her fingers aware of a throbbing pain just lurking ready to explode.

The old woman, well into her seventies with parchment skin wrinkled at the eyes and mouth, proffered the garments and Sam took them gratefully.

"Dress, my child." The voice was a little stern, but a smile accompanied the words and she helped the young woman as she stepped into the high-backed cotton dress, helping her with the ties at the front.

Sam fingered the wound on her forehead which had been covered by some form of dressing but the older woman gently drew her hand away.

"Leave it to heal."

"What happened?"

"You cannot remember?" The older woman watched her carefully. "You fell from your horse."

"My horse? But I--."

"Enough, my lady, your mother awaits you. She does not care to be kept waiting."

She stilled, holding up her hands to stop the other with the last minute adjustments to her attire.

"M..my mother?"

"The Queen is anxious to see you up and about. These last four days have been a nightmare for her."

----------------------------------------

"Come on, Colonel. It's time to wake up. Let's see those big brown eyes of yours."

'Go away. Leave me in peace!'

He felt his hand being pressed. 'Ouch! Damn it, that hurt.'

Janet felt a distinct movement in the hand to which she'd just pulled hard on the middle finger.

"That's it," she murmured encouragingly, "you're nearly there – just open your eyes. Come on, Sir."

'I'm trying, I'm trying! Keep your shirt on."

Slowly, with more effort than it normally took to do a workout with Teal'c, Jack succeeded in half opening his eyes.

Everything was terribly unfocused and as he blinked, a bright light suddenly appeared before his oversensitive vision ensuring he snapped his eyes tightly shut.

'Damn, damn, damn! Why does she have to do that?' He hated that infernal light – it hurt worse than the blasted needles she constantly used on him.

"Come on, Sir. Open up. I just need to check your visual reflexes."

Jack refused to comply and only when he heard the unmistakable click telling him the light had been retracted, did he slowly raise his lids. This time the picture was a little clearer and he was able to see a petite brunette smiling down on him.

"Hi there. Welcome back, Colonel."

Attempting to speak, Jack could only produce a weak, choking sound. Immediately, Janet reached over and placed a couple of ice slivers in his mouth; he sucked on them with obvious relief, then he tried again.

"Carter?"

Not missing a heartbeat, Janet answered lightly, "I've no information yet, Colonel. When I have, you'll be the first to know."

"Doc, don't bullshit me." It took effort to say the words and now Jack lay exhausted, trying hard to keep his eyes open.

Hesitating for a second, Janet leant in closer, putting her hand on Jack's own. "When I know anything, you'll be the next……promise." This time her words were spoken earnestly. And for Jack, it wasn't what he wanted to hear but at least it was something.

"Daniel?" He could barely say the name.

"He's been and gone. He wanted to keep vigil at your bedside but I banned him from the infirmary unless he was willing to occupy a bed. He'll be back in the morning."

"How long…?" Unable to stay awake to finish his question, Janet was thankful she didn't have to tell him this was his fifth day in the hospital – five days in which they'd had no sign of where Samantha Carter was – whether she was alive or dead. Nothing.

Daniel heard the soft murmur and lowered his book, anxiously scanning the pale, drawn face on the pillow. His hand reached out to grasp Jack's arm, aware that his friend was resurfacing after being out of it for such a long period of time.

Slowly, Jack's brown eyes opened revealing pain and confusion.

"Carter?" He spoke the name a second time turning to see if there was someone else sitting on the other side of his bed. Dark eyes returned to Daniel who blinked nervously. He felt Jack remove his arm from his gentle hold.

"Where is she?"

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak and he raged inwardly at his impotence, willing the young archaeologist to make sense of the burning hole in his soul.

"W…we don't know what happened, Jack. She was there in the cave with you and the next second she was gone."

Restlessly, Jack's hands grabbed at the bedcovers as his body tensed.

"The earth just gave way beneath her……I …I tried holding on but I couldn't!" Jack's head dropped, his eyes screwed tightly shut as he tried to erase the harrowing image imprinted on his brain.

Summoning hidden reserves, he pushed himself up, throwing the bedcovers back and bringing his legs over the side of the bed.

Daniel's horrified expression matched the sound of his voice. "Ja-ack? Are you out of your mind? If Doc Fraiser--."

"If I what, Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel winced at the biting tone whilst the tiny figure was hurrying past him. She put a very firm hand on Jack's shoulders, at the same time sweeping his bare legs back up on the bed. Smoothing out the sheets, she snapped up the side rail of the bed, walking round to the opposite side and repeating the procedure, all the while giving both men a look which put them in the same category as pre-schoolers.

"You're still not ready for walk-about, Colonel." She spoke the words gently but firmly and there was no mistaking the fiery gleam in her eye nor the no-nonsense way she listened to Jack's heart through her stethoscope. When she'd finished, she stepped back to survey her patient, resisting the urge to brush back a lock of hair over his forehead. She went to his chart and wrote down some more figures then snapped it back onto the base of the bed.

"You're doing fine, Colonel, as long as you stay in bed."

She gave Daniel a piercing look as she spoke, making him flush and drop his eyes as if the book in his lap held some extraordinary secrets of the universe.

-------------------------------------

"He's too quiet, General."

The dark-haired doctor's eyes were troubled, even though she'd just given General Hammond a very positive rundown of O'Neill's recovery.

"I would have thought that a compliant Colonel O'Neill was something to be enjoyed. After all the complaints I've heard over the grapevine concerning some of the antics he's gotten up to in his post recovery status."

"We-ell, yes, General, but I…I can't quite put my finger on it, it's just that he isn't bouncing back."

The General frowned. "But you've just told me he's making a speedier recovery than even you'd anticipated."

Janet grimaced, realizing she wasn't explaining herself at all well. "Yes, Sir. I know what I said, but there's something off." She shook her head, perplexed by the quandary.

"When do you expect to release him?"

"He's still some healing processes to go through but I'd say another week and he'll be ready for some light duties."

"Good." The General rose to his feet, a clear indication that the meeting was coming to an end. "I'll drop by some time this evening before heading home. It's my youngest granddaughter's birthday tomorrow; I've got some balloons to pump and banners to put up. It's not every day you turn three."

Janet smiled at the pride in her CO's voice.

"It will do you good to get away from this place for a while, Sir."

The General sobered instantly. "Has Colonel O'Neill said anything about the loss of Captain Carter to you?"

Janet sighed, her dark eyes almost turning black. "He won't discuss it, General. We all know he's the world's expert when it comes to burying feelings."

Janet played with her pen as she spoke, remembering how on one recent occasion Jack had been positively aggressive. She'd kept that out of her report and he had apologized, which was practically unheard of. Nor had she let him have an inkling of the fact that her heart had almost stopped as he'd leaped from his bed to tower over her, fists clenched, face contorted in rage, spitting out that, no, he had nothing to talk about Captain Samantha Carter now or ever! There was nothing to say other than here today, gone tomorrow. End of conversation.

When next she had raised the subject – and yes, she'd had to – he was under strict control, and apart from a nerve jumping at his temple, he presented the perfect picture of someone coming to terms with grief. Only Janet knew him better than most – well almost most, she admitted to herself alone.

'Pretty good, Colonel,' she thought admiringly. 'That would even fool Dr. MacKenzie.'

"Will he require counselling?"

The question brought Janet back to the present.

"I'd recommend more time for him to deal with the situation in his own mind, General. SG-1 was a very close team. Daniel and Teal'c are, in their own ways, providing support."

"Very well, Dr. Fraiser. We'll review this in another week."

-----------------------------------

He had been patient, so very, very patient and his planning had been meticulous. He had bided his time and waited. Waited not only for his body to heal, but waited for the most appropriate time to make his move.

Slowly, secretly, he had accumulated all he would need. He was used to working behind enemy lines, under cover, skilled in the art of deception even to the point of deceiving his remaining two closest friends.

-------------------------------------

As Teal'c and Daniel left the infirmary on the way to the commissary, Daniel whirled round on the huge Jaffa, forcing him to a standstill.

"Don't tell me you didn't pick up on something?"

For a moment the warrior stared at the smaller man, his left eyebrow raised theatrically.

"Daniel Jackson, I believe your use of double negatives assumes you are making a positive statement, though I fail to see anything in the vicinity that requires gathering."

Well used to Teal'c's way with language, Daniel didn't skip a beat as he continued. "He was getting positively ready to go into full tantrum mode on account we were still hanging about. He's never done that before."

"We have never had the loss of Captain Carter before."

Daniel shuddered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Something is definitely up."

Teal'c's eyes looked to the ceiling and then returned to Daniel.

"I think we need to keep an eye on Jack, Teal'c."

"I may assure you, Daniel Jackson, both my eyes will be used to observe O'Neill."

The linguist grinned, pleased to have the large man on his side.

------------------------------

"Going somewhere, Jack?"

The tone, innocent enough, still had the effect of making Jack jump out of his skin, and having returned to terra firma, he glowered at the young archaeologist who was standing, feet slightly apart, arms crossed and blocking his path

"Get out of my way, Daniel." The tone was no nonsense 'DON'T MESS WITH ME!' O'Neill at his most ornery.

Daniel's expression never changed. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

Jack stiffened. "I won't ask again."

Staring at his friend's implacable gaze, Daniel had not missed the full pack Jack was wearing nor the GDO gripped tightly in his hand.

"I repeat, going somewhere, Jack?"

"It would appear, O'Neill, that you are attempting some covert mission."

Not breaking contact with Daniel gaze, Jack saw the triumph in the archaeologist's blue eyes at the same time as he tried to conceal his own realization of defeat. Daniel alone was fine; plus another – okay. But Teal'c. There was no way he could get past the big guy unless the big guy wanted it that way.

"He's good at that sort of thing, Teal'c – black ops training and all." Daniel stayed locked on Jack who chose to ignore the hidden sarcasm of his younger colleague. "So tell me, Jack," he continued lightly, "does Janet know about this walkabout?"

"It's need to know."

Daniel's eyebrows rose above his rimmed glasses. He appeared to be in deep contemplation. "Ah, right, interesting."

Just three words and they were beginning to irritate the hell out of Jack.

"General Hammond?" Daniel persisted.

Jack's lips tightened ominously. Daniel could feel his own anger boiling inside and tried hard to rein it under control.

"Before I ask Teal'c to take a firm grip on your collar to drag you back to the infirmary where, I've no doubt whatsoever, you will get the verbal thrashing of your life from our all-time favourite CMO – I'd just like to ask you one thing." He had come so close to Jack their faces were mere inches apart. Daniel's voice had risen inexorably with his growing anger. "Do you intend leaving the rest of your team out of the loop from now on? Because if that's the case, I'll just up and go now."

Jack had long since dropped his gaze, unable to face the bitter accusation in Daniel's eyes.

"I'm gating back to PX5725."

"To do what exactly?" At times Daniel could be cruelly blunt. "What are you going to do, Jack, that Teal'c and I and a whole mess of SG teams haven't already tried?"

Hurting so badly at the loss of Sam and recoiling from Jack's own withdrawal, Daniel's only recourse was to hurt back and he intended to push the knife in deep with an added twist.

"Guess you're on a guilt trip, eh Jack?"

The older man tensed.

"Wanting to take back those harsh words you used on Sam – not wanting to think that the last thing you did pissed her off?"

Jack's head shot up, his cold glare blazing into Daniel.

"That's enough!" he growled.

"What did she do to you, Jack?"

Knowing enough of O'Neill's body language to understand how close to the edge his CO was, Teal'c felt it an opportune moment to intervene.

"If Captain Carter were to see you both now, I believe it would bring her great pain and distress."

As if a light switch had been turned off, the rage, anger and ugliness simply collapsed, leaving the airman and the archaeologist looking lost and deflated.

"Daniel, I…."

"Jack…."

They both spoke at once and stopped mid-sentence. It was Daniel who cut to the quick.

"Look, Jack, I don't know what you can do on that god forsaken planet, but I know you've got to try. You'll need our help getting there, right Teal'c?"

-----------------------------------

Going through the gate in the early hours of the morning when Siler had been doing some off world connection tests had been the perfect time to make his move, and with Daniel's help in keying in the co-ordinates and Teal'c providing the necessary diversion of Lieutenant Simmons, it had been easier than Jack had anticipated.

And now, as he scowled at the familiar horizon, he realized he didn't remember it taking this long to get to the damned site that first time round.

'Could be that you didn't have busted bones and a concussion,' Jack admonished himself dryly.

His shoulder was aching and he moved the packs on his back in an attempt to ease the pressure. Not a lot of difference. He shrugged – it was nothing new for him to be in pain – he'd live with it, get it sorted good and proper when he got Carter back.

Carter! His heart gave a lurch as he allowed himself to think of her. His head was beginning to throb as he relived those last seconds when her hand had slipped out of his. He stopped, vaguely aware his breathing was irregular, too rapid and painful. Tough! He pressed on. He wanted to get to the site while it was still light.

'And what are you going to do then, Jack?' He repeated Daniel's question, wondering what on earth he could do that others had failed to achieve with all their linguistic and scientific knowledge.

But he knew, he just knew that no matter what, he had to come back and see for himself. He frowned. 'How could that hole simply disappear?' Even an earthquake would still reveal something of the chasm that had once been.

He trudged on, a picture of Carter glaring at him after he'd threatened to remove her from the SGC if she dared to ask for a transfer – for a moment he'd thought she would hit him again, he knew she wanted to, but she brought herself under control with difficulty. 'Not like me,' he thought grimly, 'laying into her any opportunity there was.'

He had to find her if only to…, well, he never apologized – it just wasn't the Jack O'Neill thing, but he'd do something to let her know he was sorry.

---------------------------------

He swore fiercely, with a growing realization that after six hours he'd found squat, having been over the ground and the damned stone with a fine tooth comb. Eventually, he had dropped to the ground, the large monument Carter had been working on, his back rest. Knees drawn to his chest, he rested his arms on them and hung his head, a picture of dejection.

He groaned knowing it wouldn't be long before General Hammond was back at his desk and Doc Fraiser was made aware of his AWOL status and then it would really hit the fan!

"Carter, where the hell are you?"

He could almost feel her eyes on him, hurt and confusion warring with each other as he'd kissed Kelly. Hell, he'd not even realized he would end up doing that, it was only meant to…. He'd only gone to the darn party because he'd wanted to sort things out with Sam, make her understand that he'd never thought more highly of his 2IC, never thought more highly of her as a person. What she'd done back on PX4250 was way beyond the call of duty and he had her to thank for getting him back in one piece.

He frowned at the thought that she'd even consider transferring to another SG team. No way in hell would he allow that – not till hell froze over!

He groaned as he remembered her lips on his, her body pressed against his and the need he'd had for her... He'd almost lost it there and then, and now castigated himself – if he'd allowed himself to respond how he truly felt then this wouldn't have happened.

Don't go there, Jack – if, if, if! F-cking ifs – his whole life would be something else if he'd followed that road of thought.

He pushed himself up, groaning as his body protested. He looked at his watch – by his reckoning he had another hour, maybe less, before a team would be sent to haul his sorry ass back.

He turned back to the carved stone beginning to hate it for the secrets it so carefully guarded and which, it appeared, only Sam had been able to partially unlock before she disappeared.

Missing in action. He felt the bitter taste of loss and shame in his mouth – his 2IC, his Captain, his Sam. He could feel the rage building deep inside him ready to erupt and as the pain and anguish of his loss washed over him in a raging tide, he laid his head against the cool black stone fighting back emotions which welled within. He never cried, NEVER, not even when Charlie…. He felt the earth tremble and made a mad grab for his packs just as the soil gave way beneath him.

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Too much pain – turn it off! Make it stop. He jerked awake biting his lower lip, clenching his fists to stop himself crying out. Awake and the pain diminished, retreating to a place at the back of his mind.

He ran a hand over his clammy face and tried to decide in the darkness where he lay whether he was still beside the stones and his dream was just that – a dream, or whether he was in a different place – a place where Carter was.

He rolled over, grimacing. There were plenty of new bruises; he was fairly sure of that. Groping around with his hands, he felt one of the packs and pulled it eagerly towards him. Unbuckling and unzipping, he searched and found what he wanted.

The torch flickered on and at last he could see where he was. A small cavern, a tunnel leading off, different from where he had originated from. The beam landed on his other pack and flexing his body he was pleased that no crippling pain made itself felt. He could move – he had a job to do.

He came out into sunlight and squinted until he hastily pulled up the sunglasses from around his neck and pulled the visor of his military issue cap lower still.

Trees. Lots of them. He scowled. Blue sky, clouds, hot sun. Earth? Could be, he admitted. He looked around, doing a three-sixty degree turn seeing hills and more trees and a similar vista running away before him.

How the hell had he got here? Where was here? Where was he going? Ah, he could answer that. He was going to find Carter.

He set off, cautious, alert, well aware of his vulnerability in being alone, but unwilling to have it any other way.

----------------------------------

He'd travelled three earth days according to his watch, stopping only when darkness descended, making it dangerous to continue. He did not need to fall over some obstacle and break his leg right now. That would be poor timing.

The terrain had proven to be neither too arduous nor a simple Sunday afternoon stroll, but the fact that he had, by no means, recovered from the injuries sustained when he had lost Carter, meant that what might have taken a couple of days was doubled due to his weakness. And patience wasn't Jack's strong point.

Each night when he wrapped himself in his sleeping bag having used up one of the MRE meals, he would chastise himself for his slow progress. Progress? He grimaced. He didn't even know if he was any nearer to finding her or not.

Yet on the third night, having ascended high into mountainous terrain where the snow covered the ground, having reached the highest peak he had looked down into the valley below, shivering in the fading light of day, and seen lights – hundreds of beckoning lights – telling of a large settlement, civilization or maybe not. But whatever, ahead may lie his search's end and closing his eyes before sleep claimed him, he had a vision of a woman with short blonde hair, questioning blue eyes, a hint of a smile spreading into delight.

He had awoken earlier than usual; it was pitch black as he cleared camp, erasing all signs of his presence. He felt a quickening of his pulse that hadn't been there the previous mornings and he knew that his senses were on high alert.

'What will I say to her if …no, when I come face to face with her? Hi Carter, sorry I pissed you off. Do you think we could get back to how it used to be and I'll promise not to annoy the hell out of you by kissing fellow officers in your face?'

He wore a wry expression at the phoniness of it all and wished…wished for a lot of things, but his self-discipline would not allow him to go down that road for long.

'Stick to the present, Jack. Deal with this for now.'

Go to Part 8


	8. Chapter 8

One Too Many Planets Part 8

The exhilaration and breathlessness came all at the same time and as her body leaned forward she crooned into the ears of her grey steed, urging him forward, ever faster, laughing out loud as the two of them outdistanced their pursuers. Only when assured victory was theirs did she gently ease her mount to a gentler gallop and then slowly down in pace until he was walking or at least doing a dancing walk, foam flecked mouth whinnying from the pleasure.

She slapped him affectionately on the neck promising him an extra special feed when they returned home – a well earned treat.

Hearing the approach of the others, she studiously composed her features and projected an air of calm serenity.

"My Lady!" The elder man's face dripping with sweat, twisted into a grimace of displeasure. "Your conduct is unbecoming a future--."

"Oh, hush now, Chancellor." And turning her huge blue eyes on him her words lost all their bite. "I was merely allowing Iskender his head. Otherwise I would have had a most difficult time managing him. He would run; nothing would stop him. See, he is now as meek as a babe at the breast." Knowing this elderly statesman well, she was aware he would not, could not stay angry with her for long.

While in discussion, her other younger companions chose to stay a little back on their mounts out of respect for the situation.

Realising a little more of a demure face was required, she lowered her head, looking up at the statesman through long lashes. "Don't be angry with me, my Lord Norgon. You know how that saddens me." Lowering her voice she projected the little girl chastened, knowing how her mentor would be unable to resist such an entreaty.

"Your Highness should have been born a man, you have the heart of a warrior."

Delighted with his choice of praise, the young woman looked up grinning impishly.

"Never a truer word, and now, just a short gallop, for I must surely--."

Alarm registered on Norgon's features. "Hold fast! Do you forget we are close to the land of the Canvar – it is not safe to wander too far."

She watched as he cast wary eyes around him, hiding her mirth carefully so as not to offend.

"Very well, my lord. I will heed thy warning, though the pace is Iskender's to set."

And with a pretty nod of her blonde head, she turned her mount and with a gentle squeeze of her heels they sprang forward, retracing their journey.

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He couldn't, at first, believe his eyes. It had to be too good to be true that the first people he encountered, one of them should be Carter. Hell, he didn't know she could ride like that – she almost seemed part of the animal she was astride.

Concealed within a mass of rocks, he had watched as she galloped past as if pursued by Goa'uld but then she reined in her mount and actually waited for the other riders to catch up. He was bewildered.

What the hell was she playing at? Through his monocular he was able to see every nuance on her face and it did not appear to be one of fear and subjugation. More like she was the pampered pet doted on by others.

He saw her laughter and watched the way she allowed certain emotions to cross her features. And what was with her get up? Where on earth were her BDUs? The flimsy attire she wore left little to the imagination; that was for sure.

And before he knew it, she'd wheeled her horse and was riding towards him. Dammit, what more could he ask, and yet, how to get rid of her entourage?

He had mere seconds. Looking behind, he checked that the route did not permit long range viewing, the way turning as he remembered it every dozen or so yards, often less. He dropped down, picking up a rather sharp burr and, carefully concealed, he awaited his moment.

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She had just taken Iskender over a fallen tree trunk and turned sharply to stay on route when, from the very earth sprang a dark vision, a face hidden by head covering and impenetrable eye covers. With no time to raise the alarm, she was pulled none too gently from her stallion, hearing strange garbled words which made her believe she had been taken by a lunatic.

When the covers fell from his face she saw his eyes, surprised at the depth of darkness. And yet, for a moment, she imagined she saw such burning joy until she opened her mouth to call out and then it was replaced with annoyance. And before she could utter any sound, an iron hand was clapped over her mouth.

Even as she wondered if this were some outrageous hoax planned by her younger companions to amuse her, she saw the stranger reach with his free hand for Iskender and place a thorn under his saddle.

At once her stallion reared up in pain and with a heavy slap on his rear as encouragement, he was off, taking the route she had originally intended, galloping to escape the terrible pain.

Her fury knew no bounds as she twisted in her captor's grip but almost at once she was dragged down, hidden by the fallen tree and by the stranger's body which covered her own, preventing her from moving even her hand to warn her friends as, unknowingly, they leaped over them and were away.

Undeterred by the lack of help, she kicked and bucked and at one point felt an elbow make satisfying contact with some part of her attacker's body and as his hand moved to release her mouth she struck with sharp teeth, eliciting a hiss of pain followed by words which, although unfamiliar to her ears, she knew full well to be the kind uttered as profanities.

'That will teach you to deal so roughly with me!'

He was still shaking his hand as she jumped to her feet and as his eyes dropped to his injury, she took her chance and lunged to his left.

"What the hell? Carter!" He couldn't get off her fast enough, his hand feeling like it had been through a mangle. Jack was incensed to see puncture marks on the fleshy part of his left thumb and shook it vigorously to ease the stinging pain. "What the hell's gotten into you, Captain? Have you lost your mind?"

But before he knew what to think, she was like a meteor, shooting off as if her life depended on it.

It was a moment's hesitation, but it was enough for her and she momentarily evaded his outstretched grasp and was running as if the wind was at her heels.

"Carter, get the hell back here!"

Even before he barked the order, Jack knew his 2IC wasn't about to obey. He'd known from that delirious moment when he'd grabbed her, when he'd looked into those staggeringly deep blue eyes that there was something awry – something missing.

As he felt an icy hand of despair clutch at his vitals, he was off on her heels. And if it hadn't been for her flowing garments which snagged on an outstretched branch, he wouldn't have stood a cat in hell's chance of catching her. As she tugged wildly at the material, he seized her again, making sure he stayed well clear of her teeth.

They'd practiced hand-to-hand combat enough times for him to know and be prepared for practically anything she decided to throw at him, teeth not counting, but she resorted to copying a frenzied feline spitting, scratching, clawing and attempting to bite. And with little time to ponder these totally uncharacteristic traits, he fought to gain a semblance of control over what had degenerated into a free for all. Eventually one of them lost their footing and then they were down, grappling and rolling one then the other on top.

Jack supposed he was grateful that she didn't use her knowledge of combat because it meant that there was really no contest. It was just a matter of time before he gained the upper hand and managed to straddle her, his hands pressing hers down, his own legs pinning her thrashing limbs hard to the ground. She still attempted to twist away, bucking and thrashing, but it allowed Jack time to catch his breath whilst using up her own energy – all to his benefit.

Eventually, she realized her predicament and stilled, her own breath coming in painful rasping gasps. Glaring up at her captor, without any recognition, she spat out, "You will be punished for this outrage!"

Jack shook his head, unable to see any signs of head trauma but accepting that after so many weeks had passed since Sam had disappeared, that didn't mean much.

He stared at her hard.

"Carter, if you're hiding in there, now would be a good time to reappear." It was worth a try.

He could feel the tension in her body even without the defiance that burned in her eyes lashing him with fury. He sighed heavily.

"Look, Carter. I know that right now this must seem pretty weird, but don't you recognise me?" A look, part exasperation, part hope hovered over his stern features as he stared down at her. There was no change in her expression. "We're a team, Carter – you, Teal'c, Daniel and me – SG-1. You somehow got separated from us while working on some hieroglyphics and you were transported to this place. I don't know if it's the same planet or not, but," and now his voice grew firmer as did his grip, "you don't belong here. I've come to take you home."

He could feel her intense scrutiny and couldn't prevent the faint glimmer of hope which was kindled in his heart.

"Where is this home?"

It was her voice, he was sure of it but it wasn't exactly what he'd been wanting to hear and her words sounded strange. Still, she was showing interest – it was a start.

"Earth."

No struggling – that's a good thing. Right? Jack tried reading what was in her eyes – nothing. He eased the pressure of his own body on hers just a little, ready if she so much as gave a twinge.

"Earth?"

He scowled, not liking this one little bit. He stared at what he believed was his 2IC, finding it hard to come to terms with this person and who she really was.

He decided giving her a technical answer wasn't within his capabilities and he wondered if she'd have the ability to understand even if he could.

"It's a planet, a great distance away and if we're to make it home in time for Thanksgiving we're gonna have to get a move on."

He waited for her reaction which wasn't exactly get up and let's go, but still, no struggling. Good again.

"I'm getting up now. Okay?" Slowly, cautiously he sat up, his legs still pinning hers down but setting her torso free.

She continued to stare at him with eyes that he thought he might drown in.

"Thanksgiving?"

'You know, turkey, potatoes, sweet corn – the whole hog."

"You eat a whole hog?" Her voice sounded incredulous. "That is indeed a great food festival."

Jack's eyes rolled. "Yea, kind of… the pig though, that's questionable."

Jack grimaced – here was another Teal'c mind. Could he cope with two of them?

He decided to ignore her confusion; it would only end up him digging a deeper hole for himself.

She got to her feet carefully, flexing her shoulders.

"You okay?"

Sam nodded though Jack had to admit to himself that she didn't look all that happy.

"Can you remember anything about how you got here, Carter?"

She shook her head irritably. "Why do you call me Carter?"

Jack's irritation matched her own. "Because that's your name," he bit back sharply.

"How did you get here?"

Well at least she was asking questions, that was more like Carter.

"I did what you did – played around with those hieroglyphic thingies on PX thingy and, hey presto, Scotty must've beamed me down."

"Scotty?"

Jack's mouth tightened self-consciously. "Oh yea, keep forgetting your memory problem. Once we get you back, Janet will sort all this. It could just be a simple concussion. Hey!"

He had simply reached out to see if he could get a closer look at her head for any signs of trauma and she had done what he should have been expecting.

He leaped back from the slashing knife, feeling the blade slice through his jacket sleeve and cut into his bicep.

"Hot damn!"

Her face was feral in its ferocity, white teeth bared in rage.

"Cur of a dog, I'll slice you in two for daring to touch me!"

With an agility Jack knew well, Sam lunged at him, the knife again drawing forth blood on his thigh. He cursed and she grinned maliciously.

"Save your breath, cur dog, for your dying prayer."

She feinted right and seeing him follow she threw herself low, rolling under him, reaching out to strike at his very vitals. But her cry of victory instantly changed to a squeal of pain as Jack's hand clamped around her wrist, twisting hard so that the weapon dropped from fingers suddenly turned numb. She had expected the cracking of fragile bones to follow but to her complete surprise that follow through never came. Despite her surprise, she used her body, now relieved of her weapon, her knee shooting up to Jack's groin but this time he was ready and caught her knee in a firm hold which he then used to turn her, slamming her down hard on the solid ground. Not even waiting to check she was thoroughly winded, as he knew she must be – he had been far from gentle – he reached for the straps on his canteen, unclipping them in one easy motion and wrapped them around her wrists which he subsequently pinned behind her back. He felt her wince as he pulled extra tight, then stifling his own groan of pain, he stood up and began to examine his wounds.

They were both stinging badly and Jack continued to swear softly under his breath as he ascertained the damage. Bicep – a nice sized slice, not too deep; blood beginning to ease – manageable. The cut in his thigh was significantly smaller but it was a little deeper. He knew if Fraiser were around she'd be reaching for the damned needle and sutures but that would just have to wait for the time being. He tested his weight. Ouch! He'd live, it was doable.

He looked down at Carter. She was trying to move her wrists, work her hands free. Let her try – if there was one thing he was damned good at, it was knots. It would be a cold day in hell before she got out of his bindings.

He leaned over, grabbed her shoulders and yanked her up, quickly stepping back as her leg lashed out just missing him.

He turned baleful eyes on her. "You'd better quit that before you do yourself an injury," he warned softly, but Sam did not heed his words and kicked out again.

Out of nowhere she felt his arms impact the back of her knees and with a cry of alarm she felt her legs collapse as she landed heavily on her rear.

"Ouch!"

"I did warn you," he muttered dryly.

She glared venomously at him.

"Keep up the kung fu and you'll find your butt hitting the ground more times than you can say cur dog."

This time she was hauled up by her collar and only with the greatest effort did she restrain herself from again attempting to cause Jack physical damage.

"You will pay for your insolence. My mother will have you--." Her scornful tirade was cut short.

"Your mother's dead, Carter!"

Sam's eyes flashed with such spite that Jack felt doubts begin to surface in his own mind. Was this an AU Carter? Her vicious temperament certainly pointed in that direction.

Muttering under his breath, Jack rubbed a hand through his grey hair.

'Damn, damn and triple damn…Okay, calm down. There has to be something that will sort this question out. Think O'Neill, think…' His eyes lit up resolutely.

He approached her with particular caution; even with her hands tied he knew she was capable of inflicting damage. She watched him suspiciously as he circled her and when his hand shot out and lifted up her flowing dress she screamed in alarm and fear.

"Hah!" Jack grinned exultantly. He had his answer. At least all his efforts had been worth it. Yet he frowned at the fear and loathing in Sam's eyes and abruptly dropped the hem.

"For God's sake, Carter, what the hell did you think I was going to do?" he demanded in exasperation, hating the look on her face. "Look," he explained, his annoyance slowly abating, "Schrödinger and you were fooling about and things got out of hand. He swatted you none too gently, caught you just behind your knee. You bled like a stuck pig – two vicious scratches. I was just checking on them…they're healing nicely," he finished lamely.

"Keep your filthy hands off me, cur dog!"

"Mmmm, nice turn of phrase you've got there, Captain, but I can't stop to chat. It's time we were moving."

Sam dug her heels in. "I'm going nowhere with you," she spat.

Jack surveyed her icily. "Well, let's put it this way – you either use your own two legs or I'll throw you over my shoulder – your choice." His features were stony and he hoped she wouldn't catch on to the fact that he would find it nigh impossible to carry her. He had enough coping with everything which needed to be done – no way had he the energy to be carrying her.

"Well?" he demanded.

She glared but began to move, albeit in the wrong direction, but it was a start and Jack, using his MP5 nudged her none too gently on the correct bearing.

------------------------------------------

All too aware that time was of the essence, he set a brisk pace giving no quarter when Sam complained. He knew full well her capabilities and had no intention of allowing her to sabotage his plan to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Sam's new-found companions.

Jack knew they would eventually catch up with her horse, spend time slowly retracing their route to check if she'd fallen and they'd missed her and, then, as their alarm escalated, they would widen their search. Jack knew it was imperative to climb higher into the hills where the steep and rocky terrain would aid in concealing their tracks.

Retrieving his two packs, Jack threw a bundle of clothes at Sam's feet.

"I'm going to free your hands so you can put those on."

Sam chose to ignore both Jack and the clothes, staring somewhere past his shoulder, her nose in the air, rubbing her wrists where the leather straps had cut into them.

Jack forced himself not to look at the marks. "The boots will be an improvement on what you're wearing." The delicate shoes she wore had already begun to fall apart and she could feel a number of blisters on the soles and toes of her feet. Still she ignored the man.

"Put them on, Carter." His voice sounded weary. "Okay, let's put it this way so there'll be no misunderstandings." Jack's voice was ominously low as he came to stand nose to nose with her, his dark eyes glinting. "Either you put these on or I'll do the honours myself!"

'Ah ha! That struck home,' he thought as he saw the barely concealed apprehension cloud her eyes. He glanced at his watch, aware of the passing time. Sam wasn't, however, prepared to give in gracefully and it was only when Jack's patience had worn thin and he reached roughly for the trousers, that she snatched them ungratefully from his grasp and began to put them on beneath the long garment she wore. She turned her back on him, her face aflame with mortification as she removed her top, her bare back revealed before she started to put on the shirt.

"It's the vest first." He coughed. He actually sounded uncomfortable.

She froze and for a moment, Jack wondered if she was simply ignoring him or simply didn't understand.

"The black top," he explained.

Quickly she shrugged out of the shirt and reached for the vest. He could sense the relief in her as her body was again covered. He hadn't enjoyed watching the change of clothes this last few minutes, but there was no way he was going to allow her any privacy which would offer her the opportunity for escape.

As she sat to remove her footwear, Jack caught sight of her feet and snorted in disgust.

"For crying out loud, Carter, why didn't you say anything?"

He knelt down, taking hold of one of her ankles. She instinctively pulled back but Jack's grip merely tightened. He noticed the other foot flex and, knowing what she was thinking, glowered hard.

"A wise move."

He covered the blisters with antibiotic cream and dressings, took the socks from her hands and carefully fitted them over her feet. Then taking the boots, he pushed them onto her feet and sat back to let her tie them. Seeing the look of utter consternation on her face as she surveyed the ties and all the hooks, without saying a word he finished the job himself.

Quickly now, he packed everything carefully to leave nothing that could be found to give their position away.

"Right, let's go."

He gestured with his head, up to the hills, indicating for Sam to lead the way.

Her eyes widened in apprehension; there was no mistaking her distress nor the paleness of her features.

"Y…you cannot mean for us to go through the land of the Canvar?"

Jack's eyes narrowed. "That's exactly where we're going – no other way."

He watched as her blue eyes changed from fear and confusion to fury and she rounded on him like a spitting cat, her hands attempting to claw him.

"You lie! Your words are twisted. You would sell me to the beasts! That is your desire."

As Jack fought to keep her nails from tearing his face and eyes his own expression grew thunderous and his patience snapped.

"I've had it with you, Carter! From now on," and here he pinned her wrists, once again wrapping the straps tightly, "you just do as I say. No explanations no discussions, zilch!"

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Considering the lack of cooperation from his 2IC, they made relatively good time. On two occasions Sam had felt her shoulder grabbed and she had been pulled down beside where Jack crouched. There'd been no need for him to tell her to remain silent; her round eyes wide with anxiety kept her lips sealed. She never saw who it was they hid from but so afraid was she of the Canvar that she dare not take a chance and cry out. Head bowed, shoulders hunched, she now trudged along, at times urged on with a gentle shove by her captor's hand.

She actually jumped when Jack eventually broke the silence to say they'd make camp. And as she looked around, without understanding why, she knew it was a good place, defendable in case of attack. She frowned, not quite understanding why she had such thoughts.

Darkness was fast descending as Jack dug out sleeping bags and began to make himself comfortable.

"Sit."

She ignored him and to her surprise he ignored her. She wasn't used to it and in the end, her weariness was such that she had to sit, sighing as her aching legs were given respite.

"Untie my hands."

Jack stopped working on his weapon and stared at her but made no move to do her bidding. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Are you deaf?" she demanded haughtily.

"Nice way with words you have, Carter. You must have people lining up to do what you ask."

She could feel the blood rising in her cheeks at his mocking tone.

"My wrists are hurting, cur dog!"

"Better your wrists than my face." Jack grinned at her coldly, watching the inner struggle going on in the woman. The flush in her cheeks seemed to grow deeper though her eyes refused to meet his.

"I…I have bodily functions." Her voice was so low, Jack barely heard them and even then, it took time for him to assimilate what she meant. As realization dawned, he stood warily.

He walked her to a secluded area where he'd already placed a small spade in the soil and a roll of paper. Before loosening her bindings he rechecked that this was somewhere she couldn't easily escape and then, working quickly, he untied her.

She stared at him resentfully and when he didn't move she spat out, "You intend to watch?"

"I want your boots and socks."

"Wha-at?"

"You heard - you'll be less inclined to go running off in the dark without them."

Seething with anger, but with no choice given the situation, she thrust them into his hands then watched as he retired out of sight, but not without an explicit warning that if she thought to use the spade against him he'd make her walk barefoot the rest of the way.

When she returned to the camp she was surprised that he didn't retie her bindings. He ordered her to sit on her sleeping bag then shoved a dish of something at her which she sniffed suspiciously as well as a canteen of water. She would have liked to have thrown them all back in his face, but the look he had given her as he handed them to her was warning enough that retribution would be severe if she dare.

She shook her head – it was as if he could read her every thought! How could this be? It was something she found utterly disconcerting.

Eventually, her hunger got the better of her and she wolfed the food down, pleasantly surprised to find it actually tasted good.

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"Give me your pants."

Her eyes, which had been slowly closing of their own will now shot open in obvious disquiet.

Jack repeated the order then seeing the growing revulsion in Sam's eyes swore softly and explained, "I keep your boots and pants as an incentive to keep you in your sleeping bag."

As Jack lay down in his own bag, he reflected on how pissed his 2IC was going to be with him when she eventually regained her memory. If the picture of her as she threw her trousers in his face was anything to go by, he was in very serious trouble.

He now observed the figure a little way from him and ascertained from her slow and steady breathing that she was indeed asleep and not faking. He had pushed her trousers into the base of his sleeping bag and tied the laces of the boots together then thrown them over a high branch.

There was no way she be able to get those down without making plenty of noise, enough to warn him.

Keeping his weapon by his side, he allowed his eyes to close. He couldn't stay awake the coming four straight days and nights and hope to keep his wits about him. He was going to have to trust his instincts.

And for the first time in weeks, Jack slept without dreaming of Sam falling away from him and when he did awake just before dawn, he was relieved to find his 2IC still deeply asleep. For a moment he was able to watch her without having to conceal what he was doing, aware of how long her lashes were and how a few golden freckles still speckled the bridge of her nose and touched her high cheek bones. Her blonde hair was longer than she normally permitted it, her fringe obscuring her eyebrows. His eyes lingered on her closed eyes until he abruptly stiffened and silently chastised himself for being such a fool.

Completing his own ablutions, HE made coffee before approaching Sam.

"Wake up, Carter."

No response.

He nudged her with the toe of his boot but she merely groaned and turned away sinking lower into the sleeping bag until just the top of her head was visible to the chill morning air. He nudged her again and was pleased to hear her respond until her words reached his ears.

"Leave me in peace, Misha. I will sleep a little longer. Later, prepare my bath..."

Jack's eyebrows soared as he gained a little insight into the type of life she had been living, apparently waited on hand and foot, while he'd been worried sick for her. Without a second's hesitation he stooped and took a firm hold of the base of her sleeping bag and in an instant had stretched up tipping Sam out of it without a moment's warning.

She came awake with a shriek, finding herself tumbling headfirst out of the security of her bag.

Looking up in confusion, she realized what had all too clearly happened and spat out the strange sounding words which she had heard Jack use earlier when she had cut him with the knife.

Ignoring her profanity, Jack threw the pants into her lap and indicated she should use the toilet facilities speedily. She looked pointedly at her boots still in the tree but Jack chose to ignore her and hunkered down to sip on hot coffee.

When Sam returned, her boots were waiting for her along with a cup of caffeine. She sniffed the contents of the mug, sipping the liquid cautiously, then wrinkled her nose at the taste and threw the contents on the ground much to Jack's consternation.

"Hey, that's a precious commodity on this planet!"

"It tastes of something long buried and then dug up. If you intend trading me to the Canvar your attempts at poison are confusing."

"Trade? Poison? What the hell is in your head, Carter?" Jack's annoyance had resurfaced as the pain in his thigh reminded him that he needed to change the dressing and take some pain killers.

Sam's blue eyes, dark now with doubt, regarded him scathingly.

"What have they offered to pay you for me?"

Jack's tired eyes watched her and, as he shook his head, he raked a hand through his grey tousled hair.

"Look, Carter," he spoke softly but with a force which demanded attention. "I'll say this once and once only. You are a member of a specialized team – SG-1. I'm the leader, my name's Jack O'Neill and I'm a colonel in the United States Air Force. You are a captain in the same Air Force. Back on earth, Daniel and Teal'c are waiting. Daniel's our resident linguist and Teal'c…well, you'll see for yourself. Our overall big boss is General George Hammond who will be waiting to kick my ass the moment we get back. But I'm hoping that an appearance by you will save my sorry butt."

"Oh yea, almost forgot good ol' Doc." Here O'Neill's voice had dropped in pitch. "Nothing can save me from what she'll have in store for my hide."

Jack's attention momentarily fastened on something in the distance and he couldn't quite mask the shudder which travelled down his spine. Snapping back to the present, his eyes roamed over his 2IC trying to ascertain whether or not his words had made any impression on her. Sadly, he realized her expression remained blank and withdrawn while she observed him through veiled eyes.

"Look," he spat, his patience evaporating with the morning mist, "there were a couple of times yesterday when we evaded some hefty looking thugs with spears as thick as my arm." He saw Sam flinch visibly, her eyes darting around her. "Relax, they're long gone – but, if I'd been planning on selling you I'd have got it over with long ago to save me the damned pain of keeping you on a leash."

Ah hah! At last. He saw a look of uncertainty enter her eyes – maybe he was getting to her.

"My mother--."

"Your mother is a lie!"

"It cannot be."

Jack snorted in exasperation. "Tell me this, Carter," and now he aimed to push home his advantage. "Can you remember what you did last year with your mother?"

Bewilderment raced across her face battling with her beliefs.

"I know you can't, but 'I' can tell you what you were doing, because you were with me!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

She frowned. "I…I had an accident. I fell from my horse. My memory was lost but mother says it will return in time. She tells me--."

"I bet she does." Jack's voice dripped with heavy sarcasm. "Tell me. Did she tell you how you got that little scar on your right calf, or that one on your stomach?"

She stared at him resentfully, wishing with all of her will that her memory would return so she could tell him the truth and put an end to his ridiculous stories.

"No? Why am I not surprised? Possibly because I was the one with you when each of those two accidents happened."

Miserable, Sam ducked her head just wishing she could grasp something positive. "I…I don't understand…"

Jack's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Neither do I, Carter, but I know one thing, I'm not leaving you here. No way in hell will I do that. And it's not just because of what Jacob would do to me if I were to leave you,"he explained cryptically.He could still see the hesitation lurking in her eyes. "Okay, enough of the chat. We're wasting time."

Rummaging in one of the packs he grasped a small packet and saying, "Catch," threw her a granola bar. Sam frowned but automatically caught it, turning it over in her hands, unsure what to do until she saw Jack rip an edge off the wrapping he held and begin to chew on one end.

"Eat!"

She felt the resentment and anger course through her veins at his overbearing attitude and in answer she threw the offering back at his feet.

"Suit yourself."

To her surprise, Jack merely picked up the packet and replaced it in his bag, not even caring to remonstrate with her other than muttering under his breath, "Just don't complain to me when you are hungry."

She glowered at him but this had little if no effect on him other than for him to demand she roll up her sleeping bed.

Hah! She was not a servant and had no intention of being used as one. She gave him the eye and folded her arms.

Only when he had put away all of his own things did he come to face her.

"I want to show you something," he said softly. "Look up there."

He pointed high into the snow covered mountains which, in the early morning with the sun's rays covering them in bright welcoming sunlight, appeared almost welcoming. Sam refused to look; she knew what he was trying to show her.

"That's where we're going and I can tell you from bitter experience that it gets very cold up there."

She could feel his eyes on her but still refused to give him any form of satisfaction and remained unmoving.

"Come night time," he continued, "the only thing between you and freezing to death is…" and now she understood all too well, "that sleeping bag." He stalked over to her, his face just inches from hers, his voice still low, and his manner scrupulously polite. "And if you leave that behind," he indicated her bag, "there'll be only one choice left."

For a moment she imagined he was trying to scare her into thinking she would face the freezing elements, but his tone had acquired a far more menacing air and her eyes jumped to meet his in complete dread as the import of his next words became crystal clear.

"Cosy is how I'd put it. What do you think?"

Wanting nothing more than to smack the arrogant expression off his face, she could feel her hand tingling with the urge, but there was something in his shadowed eyes which told her more loudly than any words, that she would come to regret such hasty action should she be so bold.

She turned away, a bitterness burning within her and resentfully she bent to the task of trying to fold up her bag. Unfortunately, she found the material taking on a life of its own as she struggled to fold it so that it would fit into its casing. As her temper grew with her increased struggles she realized the man was actually enjoying her predicament and looking distinctly amused.

Repeating again the oath she had overhead her captor use, she was

appalled when she felt herself grabbed tightly. She tried jerking back, yelping in surprise and indignation and, in her anger, she reached for her dagger forgetting that it had been taken from her. And as comprehension dawned, her eyes met his which were hard and menacing.

In the next instant she felt herself hauled unceremoniously to her feet and given such a shaking she believed her teeth were rattling in her head Accompanying this were some harshly spoken words which she tried hard but failed to ignore.

"You will keep a civil tongue in your head when I'm around, Carter, and if I hear you repeat those words once more I'll wash your mouth out with carbolic soap!" But the flare of rebellion had not died in her eyes and the expletive jumped to the tip of her tongue.

"Fu—"

"And you won't sit comfortably for a week!"

As his hands reached out to make good the threat, she hastily swallowed her words, feeling the blood rush hotly to her face.

As if in slow motion, his movements were arrested and she saw the hint of triumph in his dark eyes.

"Don't push me to the limit again, Carter. I may not back down so easily next time," he ordered grimly, then reaching down he stuffed the offending bag into the pack, tied it swiftly and threw it at her, saying tersely, "It's your stuff, carry it."

Go to Part 9


	9. Chapter 9

One Too Many Planets Part 9

The walk was interminable, especially with the heavy and restrictive footwear she had been forced to wear. Her legs ached, her muscles screamed out and yet, forward she was forced to move.

She longed for a release from her captivity and yearned for the luxuries of a hot, oil scented bath and the firm, comforting hands of her maid, Misha, to soothe the aches from her shoulders, back, legs and feet. She would also have taken great pleasure in seeing the grey-haired one given a well deserved whipping.

And now, to make matters worse, there was snow, blinding and constant and perilously freezing. They had stopped at one stage and, unbidden, Sam had sunk to her knees only to be dragged back up as an extra jacket was wrapped around her, something thrust onto her head and over her ears and warm gloves pushed, none too gently, onto her numb stiffened hands. She vaguely felt relief but was unable to voice it and simply continued when pulled onwards.

For a long time Sam had been lost in her own nightmare world, capable only of placing one foot in front of the other. She followed in Jack's wake, her footsteps pressing down onto his where he had cut a path through the ever deepening snowfall. And when he finally stopped, she was so unaware that she barged into his back and would have fallen had his arms not reached out to grab and pull her close.

With no energy to resist, she stayed in his arms, aware of feeling relief that she had a body strong and warm holding onto her, but eventually she pushed herself away to stand erect, annoyed with herself for taking the comfort he offered and promising that it would not happen again.

Up above, the skies had blackened whilst continuing to hurl down a blizzard which impeded their every step. Hastily and with growing difficulty, Jack peered ahead searching desperately for anything that would afford shelter whilst keeping a firm hold on Sam's arm. When they paused she was more than grateful for the respite, pressed firmly against the sheer wall of the mountain, protected by overhanging rock and a few thorny bushes that had the temerity to try and eke out an existence in such a wild place.

Barely cognizant, Sam watched as a cocoon-type construction was erected in mere seconds and just before the storm descended in its entire wrath, she was pushed unceremoniously inside and though she was sure there could not possibly be room for another, in followed her captor.

Not even looking at her he began to pull equipment out of his pack and even more surprising the place was aglow with a light. She was even more surprised to find it produced a most welcome warmth.

"What is this thing?" she asked her eyes wide in wonder.

She realized that he was annoyed with her question and ignored her as he set out their sleeping bags, forcing her to scramble out of his way on her hands and knees, as he speedily arranged the interior of their refuge.

When he was satisfied with the arrangements, he took off his boots, inclining his head to indicate she should do the same. She hesitated until his eyes drilled into her.

"It's so cold," she complained.

"Get under the covers."

She had noticed the two individual sleeping bags had somehow been connected to make one larger one and Sam looked askance. She would have liked to refuse but the cold had entered her very bones and she away as she felt him join her and hoped he would turn his back to her shivered uncontrollably as she obeyed. She turned on her side, her back to Jack as she nervously felt him join her. She hoped that he would adopt the same position and turn his back to her also, however her breath caught as she felt his arm loop over her waist, drawing himself as close as it was permissible for two people fully clothed; she could even feel his breath on her neck!

And as she froze in discomfort, she heard his dry voice mutter, "You can breathe, Carter; I'm not gonna eat you."

----------------

She was convinced she would stay awake all night but realized she must have slept as she came awake and moaned softly as her body protested any movement.

"You're out of shape, Carter."

She stiffened, her eyes shooting open though she could see nothing in the darkness of the tent. Yet though her uneasiness at her captor's proximity was great, common sense told her that his warmth was her life's saving.

"My name is Sashai, not Carter."

She felt rather than heard him snort. "Whatever."

Listening, she was aware that the sharp winds that had blasted away at their strange tent had died down and the silence was eerie to her ears. Aware once more of Grey Hair's measured breathing, she relaxed and fell asleep to its comforting sound.

The following day was nightmarish for her. Having in her own mind led a pampered life, with her every whim taken care of - sometimes before she'd even thought of any demand - now she found herself abducted from a life of total luxury and forced on a march which for her was of epic proportions under the most appalling conditions, with the most objectionable of men as her gaoler.

Trudging her way through snow, still following in his footsteps, she stared at his back and wide shoulders, for a delicious moment imagining thrusting a knife between his shoulder blades. And as if reading her mind, he had turned mid-stride to stare at her with cold, harsh eyes and she felt a blushing stain leap to her face as if her guilt was obvious. His expression growing even more glacial, he had barked at her not to lag behind before he turned to fight his way onward.

Her heart didn't quite know what to feel when they began the descent into the next great valley – elation that they had succeeded or dread at the distance being put between herself and her home.

Her intense weariness was not the sole reason for her hunched shoulders and bowed head. She felt subdued by the presence of the Grey Haired one's strength and uncompromising disposition, troubled by his never foundering belief that she belonged to him.

That very morning, in her anguish she had screamed her loathing of him when he had attempted to speak further of her 'real' life and she had rounded on him in a vitriolic verbal attack, telling him in no uncertain way that she had had enough of his lies – she knew she was his prisoner, his to do as he pleased, but she would hear no more of his falsities. It was enough.

When she had finished her tirade, her blue eyes blazing with a furious light, she had been stunned by the despair revealed for just an instant in his face which had gone deathly pale, but then a pulse jumped in his temple and she knew without being told that this was a sure indication of his wrath. She had waited for the storm to descend on her, expecting violent retribution for her insolence. Instead, to her consternation, he had ignored her totally other than to ensure she followed him closely when they did break camp. Sullen and unresponsive to any questions she dared raise when he had, on one occasion faced her, she had backed away from the cold flatness in his dark eyes and so now she chose silence to accompany her own grief.

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When the attack came it was done so speedily and stealthily that Sam could barely discern the impact of it. Grabbed from behind, she had only the chance of a feeble cry before a dark, foul-smelling hand was clamped over her face and she felt herself being bodily dragged back. Fear froze her as she saw another squat but powerful assailant launch himself at the Grey Haired one who had started to turn, weapon raised, at her warning. But the lethal knife grasped in the assailant's fisted hand was already lunging out, its silent, deathly descent watched by her in an agony of desperation.

As she saw the shudder of pain pass through Grey Hair, her own body leaped to resist and her fingers and nails reached for face and eyes, booted feet lashing out in a frenzy of hate that soared through her like molten lava spewing forth from a monstrous mountain come to life. As she felt her nails rip through toughened flesh she had the satisfaction of hearing a roar of pain before a blow to her head had her reeling back, black spots clouding her vision before darkness and dread enveloped her.

She felt pain in her head as her senses slowly returned and as she fought the black fog which swirled in her brain she felt herself being shaken at the same time as an annoying voice demanded she wake up.

As her faculties returned, she was able to push away the offending hand that seemed to be delivering blows to her already painful head as she was shaken to respond. Whereupon opening blue eyes marred with pain, she found herself looking up into dark brown eyes seemingly devoid of all expression other than anger.

"My head is painful enough without you causing further discomfort!" she moaned, further incensed that Grey Hair looked as if he blamed her for the attack. And remembering exactly what had happened, she struggled to sit up, looking about until her eyes fell on a huddled figure just beyond. "Is he…is he-?"

"Dead. The other decided retreat was the better part of valour, especially as you'd clawed his face to shreds. No looking in the mirrors for him for a month or two."

Sam gulped, not entirely sure whether she could cope with seeing a dead body, but to her surprise she gave it no further thought, more intent on getting to her shaky feet.

The ground seemed to tilt for a while and she had to grab Grey Hair's arm until the land stilled and the pain in her head subsided. She put a trembling hand to her head – there was a throbbing lump under her gentle probing but she was relieved that there was no blood.

"You okay to keep going? We'll be out of the snow in a little while." His words were spoken gently, concern at last showing in his expression.

She nodded and instantly regretted the movement, but she was already aware that Grey Hair was alert, wary in case of other 'friends' in the area. They needed to move on quickly. She sensed his reluctance to stay in this place of death and though she was aware that every step took her further away from her people and her mother, for once Sam did not hesitate, taking up her pack and moving ever downward to the welcoming sight of the green valley.

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As tired as she was, she started to notice that their pace had definitely slowed and this caused her some surprise as she had been in no doubt that once they had moved out of the mountain's snow, the warrior's tread would have lengthened. Glancing sideways at his profile she was startled to see his features devoid of any colour, dark circles beneath his eyes which seemed full of desolation. And as her gaze dropped, she suddenly pictured the shudder of pain as the assailant's knife had lunged towards him.

Gasping in shock she stretched out a hand to his arm.

"The Canvar's knife struck you!"

Dark, shadowed eyes met hers but her hand was shrugged off as he kept up his pace. She hesitated, wondering if her eyes had deceived her, but then a swiftly growled order had her moving to catch up and she decided his apathy must be due more to his tiredness than her own heightened imagination.

Still aware of his grim manner, it was with obvious relief that they made camp in a small sheltered gully which offered protection from searching eyes and potential enemies. No fire was built but she was offered some unsavoury looking food which she managed to consume as her hunger had taken over from her palate and she wolfed the fare down with an eagerness she would have found astonishing two days earlier, uncaring of what made up the grim looking stuff. When she finished her own she looked up, suddenly noting the barely touched plate of her captor, and feeling the rumble of her own stomach she regarded it longingly until her eyes rested on Grey Hair's face.

He was struggling to maintain a neutral expression as he felt Sam's eyes upon him but there was nothing he could do to hide his laboured breathing nor, as he reached over to place his food on the ground, the sharp intake of breath as pain ripped through him. His face was ashen, with a fine sheen of sweat, and there was no mistaking the pallor of sickness about him.

"What ails you? And do not say 'fine'."

He blinked at her in surprise. "Nothing. I'm fi…okay." His words trailed off as her own eyes flared in surprise.

'How had she known he would use that word?' "You do not look 'okay'."

His voice, almost too low to hear, barely above a whisper, commanded her to sleep, and turning carefully on his side he made to settle for the night.

It was only a little later, ensconced in her sleeping bag that she realized she had not been forced to relinquish any article of clothing or her boots.

She felt warm and comfortable and for a moment wondered why she had awoken in the middle of the night. Listening to the sounds around her, senses alert now to the possibility of danger, she lay completely still.

His voice, when he spoke, startled her and she jerked in shock.

"Go back to sleep, Carter, there's nothing to worry about."

Allowing her body to relax, Sam was aware there was something still bothering her and, reluctant as she was to leave the warmth of her temporary bed, she sat up peering into the darkness until her eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light.

Knees bent slightly, he leant against the trunk of a tree, his body hunched over, a hand held to his side. Without speaking, Sam reached for the water container, removed the stopper and took it to him, holding it out for him to take. She felt his eyes searching hers for a moment then he took it and drank deeply.

But as he handed it back, she felt heat emanating from him and frowned.

"You have a fever!"

"Ya think?"

Peering at him more closely, she saw him drop his gaze, looking somewhere into the shadows over her shoulder.

"You must seek a medicine woman."

"Know just where there is one," he said lightly. "Might take a little while getting to her, but Doc'll fix me up."

Sam studied his features a little longer, not convinced by his calm manner. Reaching into his pack, she drew forth the instrument that gave light and moved back to his side, switching on the device.

"I will see your wound." She sounded determined. So was he. A firm grip held her wrist preventing her from gently pushing aside his jacket as she had intended. "I'll be fine."

That word again. The one she knew to doubt, she knew not why.

She placed the light on the ground and with her free hand pressed it against his forehead, alarmed at the amount of heat there.

"Your body burns fiercely!"

He groaned irritably. "Tell me something I don't know, Carter." He sounded infinitely tired now and annoyed at her persistence. "For crying out loud, turn the damned flashlight off."

Any other time, she would have been stung by his harsh words and quick to give a sharp reply, but Sam felt his manner was more to cover his own weakness which the light had laid open to her appraisal. Without speaking, she did as he bid, returning to her sleeping place. But she did not sleep again and knew the warrior did not either.

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For a second time that morning, Jack stumbled, losing his footing and falling to his knees. He swore bitterly whilst sucking in air sharply through gritted teeth, eyes closed, and head bowed as he fought to gain mastery of the pain that lanced through his side. Dark spots danced before his eyes and he felt nausea rise up in his stomach threatening to leave him more vulnerable than he already was. Desperately, he called on inner reserves to push himself to his feet, staggering from the weight of his pack. Suddenly, he felt it slipping from his shoulders and tried to prevent it.

"I have it."

Unwilling to show more weakness and yet relieved to have such a burden removed, he allowed Sam to take the load, merely nodding his head in acknowledgement of her actions.

"You need to rest."

He didn't even look at her. "We keep going."

"You cannot keep this up, you are losing blood." She stared at a dark stain on the left hip of his trousers which she couldn't fail to note had gotten progressively larger.

"I'll let you know when I'm goddamned ready to stop. Now quit pestering me!"

She threw her head high at his pig-headed determination, throwing him a cold glare as she spun on her heel and stomped ahead.

'Let him run himself into the ground,' she told herself spitefully, 'it will solve my problem nicely.' And she warned herself that she would not be so foolish as to show her concern again.

---------------------

She hated to think what might have happened if she hadn't looked back over her shoulder, and when she later recalled the scene in her mind she would shudder, flinching from the close call.

On turning to check his progress, for now she walked ahead, she had cried out, instantly dropping both packs as she raced back the hundred yards, her mind screaming in silent desperation. Dropping to her knees, she had grabbed his collar, yanking him back out of the water. They had both drank at the stream but then he must have fallen face down after she had continued on, apparently losing consciousness.

Uncaring when he cried out, she dragged him back at the same time rolling him over onto his back. She rejoiced in his cries of pain as a measure that he was alive and hadn't drowned, and now she knelt at his side, head bowed, hands on waist gasping air into her own tortured lungs.

Unsure why she was so angry, she pulled his jacket none too gently from his side, moving away his t-shirt while pulling at his trouser waistband. Her eyes narrowed as she tore away the dressing. She cursed soundly when she saw the ugly gash which was surrounded by inflamed skin, the actual wound weeping.

"You try my patience!" she gasped, all too aware that there were limits to her healing capabilities.

In confusion, she felt an inner war with her emotions, one half rejoicing that she was no longer held captive and the other half, the one she despised, urging her to help the warrior.

Brown eyes, glazed with fever, opened slowly.

"'s okay, Carter, no sweat."

She glared at him, a mounting frustration smouldering within her.

"We must move from here; it is unsafe. Can you walk?"

"No, but I can sashay," he barely grinned.

She stiffened and nearly reacted to his droll wit at her expense. But, instead and to her own surprise, she reached out to him and taking her proffered hand, he pushed himself up. On his feet he swayed dangerously and Sam had to use her own body to steady him, taking one arm over her shoulder.

"If I'm not mistaken, Carter, we're a couple of clicks from a town." He flinched as a shudder of pain passed through him, biting down on his lower lip; he fought to override the pain burning across his left side. He failed to notice her frown as he continued. "…need to circumvent it, head north until…reach lake, then arghh!"

He stumbled over the rough ground wrenching his side and turning white with the unexpected pain which doubled him over, nausea churning in his stomach.

"Son of a bitch!"

Gently Sam led him into the centre of a shield of bushes some distance from the water, and encouraged him to take a break.

"We must rest," and seeing him about to resist, continued, "but only for a little while, just until you feel stronger."

Understanding the logic and unable to summon any energy to drag himself one step further, Jack nodded a reluctant assent and leaning against a young tree, he allowed his body to slide carefully down, his left arm still favouring his side all the while.

"A little while, Carter, just a little while." And his head dropped to his chest as exhaustion took a firm hold and relieved him of his wits.

He didn't wake when Sam removed his jacket and eased him down onto his sleeping bag and only a soft groan escaped his lips when she turned him, better to work on the wound.

She knew she had no choice but to build a small fire, hoping that the bushes and trees would conceal the light and smoke. Once it was burning well she boiled water from the pond where Grey Hair had almost drowned, amazed at her new found skills, doubly amazed at how her care for him seemed to signal a discomforting lessening of her resolve to hate him. And when the water was bubbling she dropped in pieces of cloth she had torn from her vest, then scooping one out with a knife she had taken from Grey Hair's scabbard, she hesitated momentarily, her eyes straying to his pale features, a sudden memory of having done this very same act once before making her frown in bafflement. She shook her head to erase the strange image from her mind; she needed all her concentration now. This was no time to be daydreaming she chastised herself.

The violence of his movements as he lurched up attempting to escape this new agony had Sam totally unprepared and she found herself being thrown viciously back, feeling her hip and shoulder impacting with solid ground. Winded, she came up on her knees rubbing the areas on her body, easing the parts she knew must be bruised.

He sat upright, eyes wide, breathing heavily, the cloth cast aside as his one coherent thought was to stop his suffering.

"Easy, easy," she whispered soothingly as if attempting to calm a spooked stallion, returning to his side and gently pushing him down. "It is well, lie back now and rest."

She could feel his fevered eyes watching her every move, a wildness about them.

"I have to finish cleansing your wound, prevent further infection."

The lines above his nose deepened as the meaning of her words lowly sank in. His wary gaze wandered to the simmering water and a look of revulsion crossed his features. Then he nodded, his jaw locked in grim determination and as she hovered over him, his dark eyes looked past her into the far distance as if sending his mind to a far away place, away from the pain and agony of this moment.

He flinched as the second boiling cloth made contact with his wound and he stiffened trying to live through the torture, both hands twisted into fists pushing against the ground.

When she eventually removed the cloth he seemed to sink into himself. Peering at the wound, Sam was pleased to see that the weeping fluid had disappeared and she smiled encouragingly hiding her own trembling behind gentle words.

"Once more."

"No!" he snapped gruffly, his head rising as he fixed her with a powerful glare. "Enough… it's enough. Just cover it, for cryin'out loud." His head fell back, and his eyes closed, his lips pressed tightly shut.

As she bent to the task, one of his hands shot out encircling her wrist in a painful vice.

"In the morning, you wake me. Understand?" Then shaking her weakly he repeated, "Understand, Carter? …got to find the Stargate…must get to the Stargate."

His hand dropped from hers and she watched over him as he drifted off into unconsciousness.

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Through the night he drifted in and out of uneasy sleep, occasionally crying out as the fever took a deeper hold.

Sam's disquiet grew with every passing hour as she realized her own ministrations had done little to stop the passage of the infection. The warrior needed a healer or, she knew, the only reality was death.

In sleep he looked so different from the cold, aggressive man who showed no sign of compassion. And even though tired to the bone, she felt compelled to study his features as if trying to solve some unfathomable mystery.

In the early hours of the morning she came to a decision and quickly changed attire, replacing the strange, oddly comfortable clothes for her more familiar dress. It was almost with a sense of loss when she changed her footwear, her pumps, torn and ragged, but now fitting her purpose.

Having given him the last of the unusual medicine which she had come to learn helped him sleep, Sam knew she would have a few hours before the pain of his wound and the fever woke him.

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The smell of wood smoke alerted her to the proximity of buildings and people long before her eyes were able to discern the outskirts of the town. She didn't stop to wonder until much later how it was she was able to move so easily and without fear through the deserted streets, her eyes constantly searching for the sign which would show she had found a healer.

Small beasts scurried away at her footsteps' approach but she neither paused nor trembled as she continued her search by the moon's pale glow.

Eventually her prayers were answered and Sam stood before the large wooden door, the sign of a large hand extended in comfort a sure sign that she had arrived at the right place.

She looked around, noting that only one building opposite had any lights showing; all the rest in the narrow stone built street were in darkness.

She rapped gently with the metal knocker, hoping it would be enough to rouse the occupants, but in growing dismay her knocking grew louder and more insistent yet still there was no sign of life from within. Stepping back, she looked up to see if any light had been turned on and it was then the husky voice of a female startled her.

"Cease your banging yonder or you'll be waking the whole neighbourhood, Mistress."

The words were not spoken in ill temper, they were simply the truth and Sam nodded her head apologetically to the head poking out of an upstairs window belonging to the building situated opposite the healer's home.

"I beg pardon for the disturbance," she uttered softly, facing a well set woman in mid-life with a cheerful countenance and laughing green eyes. "I seek the healer. Is he not home?"

"Nay, Mistress, he will not return these days and it's an ill wind for any who fall sick and require his services."

Not understanding why, Sam felt her heart drop, a pain like no other flaring as she realized just what the woman's words meant to the wounded warrior.

The older woman must have seen the sudden dejection of Sam's demeanour for she closed the window and quickly appeared at the door, a look of concern on her kindly face,

"You are ill?"

"Not I. My…my Lord. We have travelled over the mountains and met with the Canvar. My Lord was sorely wounded and lies now outside this town, disease and fever upon him."

Trying hard to fight back tears, Sam realized there was nothing she could do but retrace her steps. Her spirit was heavy with a sense of keen failure.

The voice stopped her in her tracks. "Wait, child. Let me see if there is anything to be done."

------------------------

He was dimly aware of voices above him and hands touching him, disturbing him, irritating him. He could hear Sam's voice but she was speaking in words and phrases that were unfamiliar; he frowned as other voices penetrated his throbbing head. A louder, insistent voice, sounded just next to him and then he was being turned and hands were at his side hurting him. He protested in the only way he could, cursing soundly. But he could not prevent himself being picked up nor could he avoid the pain that arced across his side burning into his very vitals. He cried out and heard a strange, gentle voice hush him. He sensed movement but a cool hand on his brow soothed him when he would have struggled.

He drifted in and out of a wakening but though he tried hard to stay conscious and to understand what was happening, he was unable to stop the tide of feverish tremors which wracked his weakened body.

He only knew the journey had ended because it hurt so much when they moved him. He tried hard to bite his lip, to keep within him the insistent urge to cry out, but as numerous hands reached out, holding, jostling him, he moaned and fought as a wave of intense nausea rose up his throat.

"Carter," he rasped, his panic intense as he longed to be put down so he could crawl into a dark corner. "Gonna puke!"

A cool hand turned his head as he felt cloth placed next to his head and movement stopped as his stomach expelled what little was inside him. When he'd finished, a crisp command had them moving and at last he felt his body being lowered onto a bed.

Half opening his eyes, he was alarmed at the bright colours and the strange faces.

"Doc…?"

This wasn't the infirmary – where were the grey walls and bright lights?

The same authoritative voice he had heard earlier reached his buzzing ears.

"…strange attire…water…cool him."

He felt his shoulders being raised and water was trickled between his dry, parched lips. He drank greedily until he realized it wasn't water but some bitter, obnoxious liquid which made him retch. He struggled to push the cup away, alarmed that he was going to throw up again.

Hands were at his boots now and he understood that someone was removing them.

"No!" His voice was a mere croak but he knew he must stop this. He needed them – he'd never get to the Stargate without them.

"No…don't!...Need get Stargate. Carter!"

His head thrashed from side to side; his body fought those hovering over him. He couldn't understand where Sam was, why she wasn't stopping this. He felt insistent hands at his belt buckle and feebly he tried swatting them away.

"Hold him still."

That same voice, annoying the hell out of him, writhing and squirming to escape the demanding hands which lifted and restrained, pulling and tugging.

He desperately wanted to hold on to his clothes but there were too many hands, too many faces and they began to whirl in his vision.

An ice cold cloth was pressed against his face and he leaned into it unable to prevent the whimper of relief as his blurred vision went suddenly black.

--------------

"Gentle with him," Christa commanded as they laid him on the large bed. She was a large woman in both size and demeanour but it was her kind nature which made itself felt and Sam instantly felt safe with her. "Let us remove his strange attire, clean his wound and work to lower his fever…Sura, fetch the special root tea."

With level-headed, smooth commands the older woman had the others in constant motion. And when Jack refused the tea, Christa cradled his head in her arms and coaxed him, through her soft but persistent determination, to take a little more. Only when satisfied he had drunk sufficient did she allow him to lie back except he was instantly struggling when his boots were being removed.

Christa at his side placed cool hands on his brow, pushing back his sweat sodden hair, soothing with her hands and voice. "Be still…," and turning to Sam asked, "What are your names, child?"

For a moment she hesitated, and not sure why, she answered, "I am C…Carter, he is…," her memory strove to remember what he had told her. "…Colonel."

Christa stared at her with puzzled eyes. "Strange attire to go with such strange names."

"W…we have travelled far and--."

Christa held up her hand. "Later child. First let us deal with your Master and then we can learn your story."

Christa turned back to Jack, all the while holding him down by his shoulders. "Listen to me, Colonel. We are trying to help you. Do not fight us."

One of the other women who had been struggling with Jack's belt buckle stepped back in consternation. "What perplexing thing is this?"

"Here, let me." Sam stepped forward and without knowing how, was instantly able to open it. She looked up in the others' eyes shrugging and then attempted to remove Jack's pants until the one Christa had sent to get the herbal tea, shook her head and pushed Sam gently out of the way, nodding to a companion to assist.

Heedless of Jack's ineffective attempts to stop them, they speedily divested him of his garments and immediately cool, wet cloths were laid on his burning skin, left there a moment and removed to be replaced by cooler ones.

Four pairs of hands worked relentlessly on him to lower his heated temperature.

At times, the wounded man lay quietly, seemingly unaware of the heightened activity surrounding him, while at others he would attempt to twist and writhe away from those who held him and wiped him down as the fever raged within him.

Keeva and Jantha, two women a little younger than herself, Sam surmised, and who were dressed in the most exquisite of garments, sat back while Christa attempted to coax Jack to take more of the root tea.

"Your Lord looks to have been in more than this one battle, Carter," said Jantha eyeing some of the scars running across the man's body and indicating the newer ones on his thigh and arm. Sam had admired the length of the young woman's auburn hair which fell down her slim back all the way to her hips but now, in her guilt, she coloured, stammering, "H…He is a great warrior."

"And as good a lover, I'll bet," chuckled Keeva with a sparkle in her eye which was not unfriendly.

Sam stiffened, her eyes widening in shock as she quickly uttered, "I could not answer that."

It seemed to her that all the women paused to stare and Jantha, being the youngest and less inclined to good manners, was unable to remain silent and demanded incredulously, "You have not lain with him?"

Feeling a hot flush of blood rise up her neck and over her cheeks, Sam shook her head, her eyes remaining on Jack's ashen face.

"Enough idle chatter, ladies. Keeva, take our guest and have her bathe and rest. It will be many hours before we know how things will go with this warrior."

"I would stay with him," persisted Sam, her hand reaching out of its own volition to touch his forehead.

Jack's eyes shot open, their darkness wild and glazed.

"Carter…Stargate!" he gasped pushing up from the bed catching Christa unawares as his delirium lent him an unexpected energy.

Both the older woman and Sam reached restraining arms out forcing him back onto the bed.

"Carter? Carter?" He struggled in their arms until her voice reached him.

"I…I have not forgotten, Colonel. Just rest now. Soon, very soon we will go together," she promised softly. And her words induced him to relax and close his eyes whilst Christa nodded approvingly.

--------------

They worked on their fevered patient through the coming hours, a constant supply of ice cold water provided in which to soak linen cloths which were then placed on Jack's body.

In the quiet moments, he would lie almost at peace, the odd word murmured, taking comfort from the cooling treatment. At these times, Sam would sit next to him automatically removing one piece of linen and replacing it with a fresh one. She watched his face for signs of change, alert to the fact that the moment his words became more like commands, that he would be moving into a period of intense resistance, when he would fight and struggle against those trying to help him. It would take four of them to hold him down and even then they had all suffered blows to their bodies. Sam's cheek was already swelling even with the ice pack Christa had pressed on to it, but now she appeared oblivious to her own discomfort as she watched over this strange man who had managed to inspire such conflicting feelings within her.

In the beginning, her shyness had surfaced when she realized that Christa and the others had expected her to bathe Jack's fevered body and she had hesitated to touch his naked skin, but as she observed the others working furiously to aid the sick man, she had put her own qualms aside and so, many hours later, his lack of clothing was so irrelevant that she would probably have been surprised to realise she had been remotely embarrassed.

She watched now as Christa allowed drops of water from the ice to drip down between his parched lips, marvelling at the patience this woman had with someone she did not know.

As she wrung out some used linens before dropping them into fresh iced water, Sam raised her tired head asking, "Why do you do this for him?"

Christa looked into her eyes, pausing for a moment before speaking. "He is important to you?"

Sam hesitated, looking away. "I…I do not know, yet he gained his wounds helping to save me."

"Then you must mean much to him."

Sam heard Jantha sigh dramatically. "Would that I had such a handsome warrior to defend my virtue."

Which immediately set Keeva to chortling in amusement. "There's a hundred would take your virtue, not save it!"

"Enough, ladies," intoned Christa smiling tolerantly. "Pay no heed to this mindless chatter. They are good souls when you learn their ways."

Again Jack's head began to toss from side to side, as he began to call out.

"Sam, don't…Don't do it, Sam. No…no I can't…No, no, no!" He fought to sit up calling out Sam's name, eyes wide yet unseeing in their fevered intensity.

As gently as possible, they held him down, holding him while his body convulsed, Christa uttering soothing words in the hope of reaching through his delirium.

A little later another young woman, hair tied back in a long dark plait which hung over one shoulder, came in, eyes warm with sympathy for Sam as she handed over a jar to Christa.

"Thank you, Gulda."

Then Sam watched in horrified fascination as the older woman reached into the jar with large tweezers and extracted a writhing leech-like creature.

"What is this?" she demanded, revulsion clearly written across her tired face.

"These hard working fellows will finish our work in cleansing the wound of any remaining infection."

And without further ado, Christa placed the leech inside Jack's wound and when he would have bucked and strained against the rot eating creatures, hands held him still as more of them were placed in the wound.

----------------

"Water."

The voice was weak and barely audible but it was enough to jolt Sam from her half sleeping state to rest on Jack's ashen features, dark blue shadows under his eyes. Realising he wasn't delirious and about to launch himself out of bed, she relaxed giving him a weak smile.

"Hot."

Reaching for the mug on the side, she put her other hand behind Jack's neck and gently raised him up whilst placing the rim of the cup to his lips.

He grimaced as the liquid touched his lips and would have turned his head away but Sam was ready.

"Ah ah," she remonstrated, smiling as she prevented him from turning away. "Christa says you must drink every last drop of this special brew."

She saw his frown and, even so weak, he tightened his lips defiantly.

"If it's so great…why doesn't she drink it?"

A hearty laugh from the room's entrance revealed that Christa had heard O'Neill's words and was clearly amused. She strode across the room, her shoes tapping against the wooden floor, whilst Sam found herself frowning, wondering distractedly just why this sound should seem so familiar.

"So, he is awake and sound of mind," she spoke warmly, her large mouth opening to reveal white pearly teeth. Jack's tired eyes saw a large woman in a richly embroidered gold dress smiling down at him in satisfaction. She had an appealing face though not one he felt to be messed with, her strong eyebrows pointing to a determined nature.

"Men, possibly as brave as you, have risked their lives to collect the root of this plant and I think it would be a grave disservice to refuse this gift." And ushering Sam out of the way Christa took her place, supporting Jack's head and shoulders on her ample bosom whilst holding the offending mug most determinedly to his lips. "This will help break your fever, Colonel, and I must insist you take every drop – with or without your assent."

There had been no raised voice or hardening of her tone yet Jack was under no illusions that the brew would have to be drunk one way or another. He wrinkled his nose. He had a feeling that any form of resistance would be met with decisive action that he wouldn't be all that thrilled about. He opened his mouth almost, but not quite, finishing the liquid, pulling a face at the vile taste.

"Well done! Well done!" His head was allowed back on the pillow and a soft hand brushed the hair back from his warm forehead. "You may take the last drops a little later."

Rolling his eyes in disgust, he decided that he should be pleased not to have the remainder forced down his throat but then stiffened as the older woman carefully lifted the cool sheet away from his body, examining the wound at his side. He would have been interested in that himself except that he was uncomfortably aware of his complete lack of clothing and preferred that his attributes weren't a showpiece for every female around - and he'd seen plenty in the short periods he had been lucid.

Oblivious of his embarrassment, Christa studied the deep gash above his left hip bone, a slight frown on her forehead.

"The weeping has ceased – a good sign. We may yet have to repeat the treatment with the leeches."

"Leeches?" Jack still had the strength to sound aghast.

Christa smiled widely bestowing a special comfort, amused by her patient's revulsion. "Your stubborn fever is not yet broken but we will beat this yet." And without another word she was gone.

Jack watched her leave, grateful that the sheet had been replaced. He searched Carter's concerned eyes. "Looked as if she was on a mission," he whispered, his lack of voice lending to his state of exhaustion.

Gently, Sam laid a cool cloth against his cheeks and neck.

"We are greatly in her debt. She and her ladies have spent many tireless hours helping to cool your body – they were unstinting in their toil."

Jack groaned, though not from his wound. "Aw, c'mon, Carter, can't you let up on this language thing – start to talk like you…used to? We need to…."

The urgency to ask where exactly he was and who these people were, however, proved too much as, against his will, Jack felt his eyes closing. Damned drink. He fought to stay awake, to hold back against the insistent demands of sleep. "Stargate, Carter, don't for..."

------------------------------

When his temperature began to spike yet again, many were at hand to wrap the warrior in sheets soaked in alcohol. In his delirium he struggled against the bindings, but so securely was he cocooned that his writhing was in vain and only his fevered brain was allowed free flight to soar through his tangled memory, reliving nightmares which seemed to Jack just as real as any he had experienced in life. He felt his fingers crack one by one as he was tortured and he screamed in agony as the Iraqi officer beamed down in orgasmic pleasure.

--------------

"What demons are these that trouble his very soul?" demanded the older woman to Sam breathlessly.

They had just spent a furious few moments fighting to hold Jack down as another nightmare impinged on his memories and he twisted and bucked trying to escape from what tormented him. But Sam could only shake her head in despair, worn out by the battle and apprehensive for his recovery. She'd watched a thousand times it seemed as Christa reached out and put a hand to Jack's face but this time the look she sent Sam was triumphant as she rubbed thumb and fingers together testing their touch.

"It breaks!" she cried wearily causing Sam to rise up from her chair and reach out to touch O'Neill's skin.

They stared at each other, grinning as they realized they had won the battle, had pulled their patient over the crest of his illness.

Straightening her stiff body, Christa looked down on the man they had spent so many hours working on, his gaunt face now bathed in perspiration.

"I am too old for this sort of nonsense. I will leave you to him and will send girls with clean sheets and cool dry linen to wipe him down."

She gave strict instructions to continue encouraging him to drink the herbed fluid, making Sam's eyes roll in uneasiness.

Go to Part 10


	10. Chapter 10

One Too Many Planets Part 10

She felt his eyes on her as he work from sleep, but as he hadn't spoken she didn't acknowledge the fact and continued her chore.

"What're you doin', Carter?"

She didn't so much as blink to interrupt her work as she replied dryly, "I think you can see for yourself – feel, too."

She dipped her cloth in what looked like soapy water and reached for Jack's other arm starting at his hand and moving up to lather his elbow and upper arm.

He grimaced, though not in pain.

"I kinda like to do this sort of thing myself."

She moved on to his shoulder and then chose a clean cloth to remove the soap, eventually reaching for a larger cloth to dry him, ignoring his words.

Clearly uncomfortable, Jack began to squirm; he was well aware of his lack of clothing beneath the thin sheet which rested precariously at his hips and a formidable scowl twisted his features. Sam chose to ignore that too, concealing her amusement beneath a neutral countenance. She had moved to his chest now and he was growing more agitated with every movement of her arm, particularly as his 'look' had failed miserably to intimidate his 2IC.

It wasn't, he realized, as if he hadn't had bed baths in the past. He had, but at least it was usually the senior nurses who, knowing his propensity for blistering language and his intense dislike of anything which hinted at his own lack of independence, were lightning quick with the ablutions. This, however, wasn't a faceless nurse who was wielding a very soapy cloth – it was Carter and he was having serious difficulties dealing with this situation.

"Carter, I was six the last time my mother gave me a bath. I think – woah!"

As the cloth moved to his stomach, Sam reached out with her free hand intending to lower the sheet, resulting in Jack grabbing said sheet and pulling hard in the opposite direction.

"Goddamn it, Carter, no more! Understood?" He was breathing heavily and glaring furiously.

Sam paused, her blonde head at a tilt as she observed him, apparently unaware of his distress. "Is there anything troubling you, Colonel?" she asked sweetly.

"Yes!—No!" he snapped, hating the feel of the blush creeping up his neck and face.

"I am pleased to hear it." And clearly unwilling for any further interruptions, continued, "Now……if you will allow me to help you turn on your side, I will--."

"What for?"

She looked slightly taken aback. Surely it was obvious 'what for'? "So I can wash your back."

Jack felt the same as when he'd been five year's old and Sister Angelina had been explaining the significance of learning how to read rather than staying out in the playground playing catch as he had much preferred.

"My back's fine," he growled.

Yet even as he held tightly to the bed sheet he felt Sam's capable hands moving him carefully.

"I really don't think--."

"Does that position pain your wound?" she interrupted.

He scowled. "It's fine! And as I was saying--."

He felt the warm, soft cloth move over his shoulders, a not altogether unpleasant sensation… Acutely aware of stirrings in one particular area of his body and, mortified at his own lack of control, Jack forced himself to flip all the way over onto his stomach gasping in pain as his side made contact with the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sam sounded alarmed.

"I…I feel better like this," he lied.

"Your wound--."

"It's fi-ne." He was infinitely relieved she couldn't see his face which so obviously belied his words. "Now get on with it, Carter, and stop at my waist. That's an order."

"An order?" she repeated softly.

Uh oh – that tone of voice sounded a little ominous to Jack's ears but at least he was feeling less exposed and the pain from his wound had certainly had the desired effect on his hormones. He shifted slightly to ease the pull on his injury.

"That's right, Carter. I'll just remind you – you're the Captain and I'm the Colonel, which means --."

"I have no interest in such childish games," she muttered, renewing lathering his back.

"Games?" he growled. "And will you stop interrupting me when I speak?"

"If I believe it is worth my attention," Sam replied calmly, smothering a laugh as she heard Jack mutter a few choice expletives under his breath.

"I did not hear you, Colonel."

"It was nothing!" he snarled, aware of her hands drying him.

"It did not sound like nothing," she persisted pointedly.

"Are you finished?"

"Not quite."

Jack froze not liking what he was hearing. When in doubt – attack!

"Let's get one thing clear, Carter," he explained slowly, having difficulty trying to turn himself back on his side. "Will you help me out here?" he demanded indignantly.

She stared him in the eye, exasperated blue to irritated brown, but even so she gently gave him support so that he was able to turn back.

"This may seem a cosy spot for you," and now it was Sam's turn to flush hotly at his accusing and belligerent tone, "but the second I can leave this bed, we're outta here. Do I make myself clear?"

He was beginning to hate the supercilious look Sam had taken to wearing and which she had adopted when they had confrontations.

"Where the hell are my clothes?"

"Somewhere safe."

He rolled his eyes. "And that would be?" His dark eyes stared at her unamused.

"Exactly where I said. And now," ignoring his glacial expression, "I believe I said I wasn't quite finished..." She held out a mug to him and felt her annoyance evaporate into thin air as Jack wrinkled his nose, shook his head and firmly sealed his lips. She couldn't help the grin which spread across her face, her blue eyes lighting up.

"Now I know what you looked like when you were five years old."

His mutinous expression turned annoyed as she approached him determinedly, but she took no notice.

"Aw, c'mon, Carter. Have a heart. I'm practically drowning in the stuff."

Sam shook her head, finding his petulant whine fit his spoilt little boy look to perfection and her smile widened.

"Stop whining, Colonel, and take your medicine like a man."

"I'm not whining," he snapped peevishly. "I never whine!"

Sam's eye's rose to the ceiling whereupon she took a calming breath. "Good. Let me see you drink this."

She thrust the mug under his nose and was surprised when the ailing man took it. Almost immediately, however, her suspicions were aroused and she stood over him, watching warily. He was staring into the depths of the drinks.

"Don't suppose you know what's in this stuff, Carter?"

"Drink!" Her patience was beginning to wear thin and she put on her severest expression, folding her arms to show she meant business.

Plaintive brown eyes looked up into hers. "It tastes awful."

"I can go and fetch Jantha and Keeva," she said mischievously.

She felt his accusing eyes on her and knew she'd hit a tender spot when he flushed and dropped his eyes.

"You know, Carter, when we get back, there are a few insubordination issues I'm going to want to raise with you…" He allowed the threat to hang in the air but his annoyance escalated when he saw his words had no effect whatsoever.

"As you wish. Now drink before I--." She suppressed a sigh of relief as he emptied the contents down his throat, well aware how exasperated he was that she watched him swallow every mouthful. Wiping a hand across his mouth, he shuddered in disgust, pushing the mug away.

"Urgh – it's disgusting!"

"It's helped to keep you alive."

"The hell it has – all it does is make me sleep." And in childish irritation, Jack's fist thumped down on the bed as he vented his displeasure in the only way possible and much to his surprise, Sam simply laughed at him, softening her attitude by gently pushing the hair back from his forehead.

"Young children need their sleep," she whispered mischievously.

"I'd like to see you toss that stuff back, Carter. In fact," and now

Jack's eyes darkened menacingly, "before we leave here, I'm going to get some of this stuff and keep it for any time you need some T.L.C."

Her eyebrows rose questioningly, and she echoed, "T.L.C.?"

He hesitated. "When you're sick," he muttered.

"I don't get sick."

"Yes, you do."

"My mother--."

"I should know, Carter. I've got a square butt sitting on those damned infirmary chairs waiting for you to wake up," he snapped sarcastically.

Sa found herself frowning, aware that somewhere deep within her was a memory trying to force its way out and yet…

"What is a square butt?"

It was Jack's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Agh, for crying out loud. Just forget it!" he mumbled disgustedly and unable to forestall the demands of the opiate tea, his eyes began to close. "I want my uniform when I wake up, Carter." She just stared at him blankly. He yawned. "You have trouble hearing?" He struggled to keep his eyes open, able to see a sardonic quirk touch her mouth as she leaned close to him.

"Only when I hear words of nonsense," she whispered. And as his heavy lids obscured his vision and he felt himself surrender to the force of the drug he wondered if he really had felt her lips brush his forehead?

--------------------------

Knowing he would sleep for a few hours, Sam went in search of Christa, finding her in a large salon with a number of beautifully dressed young women hovering about. Christa was making some minor alterations to one girl's attire, pulling down a neckline which Sam already considered was too low.

As the older woman's eyes alighted on Sam, Christa's face lit up. "Carter, come my dear, join us in refreshments."

Feeling conspicuously under-dressed, Sam joined her on the low chaise-longue accepting a crystal glass of sweet smelling juice which she was unable to recognise. She smiled to herself imagining what Jack would say to the difference in their beverage, knowing there would be a few strong words thrown in to voice his opinion.

"To your warrior's improving health." And seeing Sam's evident enjoyment of the liquid after she had tasted it, chuckled, "An improvement on what Colonel is consuming, I do think."

Sam grinned in agreement.

"He would be most put out if he were to learn of our refreshments." And having spoken, the younger woman drank even more copiously.

They talked a little of Jack's recovery and Christa observed Sam's expressions as she discussed his amusing demand for his clothes.

"I sense our patience will be sorely tested in these coming days as his strength begins to return," mused Christa.

"My patience is sorely tested already!" the younger woman exclaimed indignantly resulting in Christa bursting into hearty laughter.

"Indeed this man has entered your heart," she chuckled, noting the becoming colour suffusing Sam's neck.

"Not so, my lady," she denied forcefully, gulping more of the wine in the hope it would hide the emotions Christa seemed so adept at noticing. She ducked her head, hiding her eyes. "His heart is for one named Sam," she uttered softly. "Hers is the name he calls for in his fever and in his dreams."

Acknowledging the fact with a slight nod, for she too had heard this same name called for over and over by the sick man, Christa grew saddened as she saw the beautiful young woman next to her try to guard her heart against the pain of her emotions.

At that moment before the woman could offer her own advice, a young, slightly breathless girl approached, her cheeks pink with excitement.

"The gentlemen are at the door, Christa, they are here." Her large eyes glowed with unconcealed pleasure and Sam watched curiously as the older woman reached out with a kerchief and wiped some of the colour from her cheeks.

"Modesty, Trygna – you must learn to be calm." Then smiling to show there was no rebuke intended, she nodded her head clapping her hands. The room of chatter instantly became silent. "Ladies, the gentlemen will shortly enter. Do your best…and remember…Enjoy!"

Sam could feel the excitement level rise at this last word and she turned to Christa who was already rising.

"Come, Carter. We will leave these ladies to their pleasure, though I must admit," and here she turned a studious eye on Sam, "given the right attire and hair preparation, you would do great justice to this house."

"This house?" She was looking more and more perplexed.

"Yes, dear one. This is a house of pleasure."

For a moment, Sam's confusion remained and then understanding dawned as her eyes widened and even more colour brightened her cheeks.

"Oh!"

Looking over her shoulder, she now saw these young ladies in an altogether different light and the spark of interest was there to know what went on behind these now closing doors.

Seeing that look, Christa chuckled knowingly.

"Ah, I see I have a possible student?"

"No!" Not intending her vehement denial to be so disrespectful, Sam stammered, "I...I mean, I simply wondered…"

"So many do, my dear, but few dare or have the opportunity."

"How does one become a…a-."

"A courtesan? There are many who aspire and a few are chosen. And then there is the schooling."

"Schooling?" Sam was unable hide her surprise.

"Ah, I see you are unfamiliar with our specialized training." Christa's amused eyes watched as Sam tried to assimilate all she was hearing about this oldest of all women's professions. "Well, if you ever change your mind."

Sam smiled, acknowledging the compliment, and then turned to wonder what the warrior would think if she did accept. Somehow she knew there would be volcanic eruptions should he even have an inkling of her thoughts. And now that her mind had turned to him, she knew the very best way to help him was to find this Stargate he was so obsessed to locate and help him to return home to the strange world to which he belonged. Having no intention of accompanying him, she knew she would have to deal with that hurdle eventually.

"Christa, Colonel speaks often of a gate, a special gate which can take him to his own homeland. He calls it a 'Stargate'. Do you know of such a thing?"

Tipping her head thoughtfully, the older woman considered the question. "I have heard him use this name in his fevered talking but I paid little attention. Do you not know of this gate?"

Sam shook her head despondently. "He seems to think it is to the north of this place. Surely, if such a place were to exist, it would be known to all hereabouts."

Christa frowned, shaking her head. "Some places of magic are kept secret; mayhap that is the case with this gate of your Warrior."

Sam nodded, deep in thought and so did not at first see when Christa held out something to her.

"What is this?" her blue eyes had grown wide in admiration and amazement.

"Your own dress has seen better days."

"But I cannot accept this – it is too generous."

"Nonsense. It would please me to see you wear it." Smiling at the look in Sam's eyes as she eyed the midnight blue dress with fine gold trim, Christa pushed it into the blonde haired woman's hands. "And besides," she whispered coyly, "let that Warrior of yours see you in this and he'll never even consider this other woman of his dreams ever again!"

Smiling weakly, Sam could barely prevent herself from touching the material longingly, though she still felt it inappropriate.

Noting her hesitation, Christa continued, "Let us make a bargain."

The younger woman frowned cautiously.

"Tomorrow evening it is the turn of the novices to be initiated into the Meeting Ceremony."

As she saw alarm in her young companion's eyes, Christa held up a hand in a placating manner. "It is not what you think, Carter. These are novices, as yet uninitiated in the finer arts of the courtesan. Tomorrow they will be required to make pleasant conversation, nothing more."

"But on whom will this art be practiced?"

Christa smiled softly, her mind harking back to her own initiation. "Young nobles, still wet behind their ears and happy to be in the company of my ladies, if only to hear them prattle. Some will come thinking they can coax more than is allotted to them and this will be a pleasing challenge, which I will venture my ladies will win hands down."

Sashai smiled uncertainly. "I thank you for the honour, but I would not be good company for such young blood. I would be considered--."

"Oh, I have not made myself clear." Christa's hands rose in apology. "The Lord Diago will accompany the sirelings and he deserves a pleasure that will be richly rewarded when he sees you, my dear."

At the far too obvious compliment, Sam again found her cheeks colouring. "I…I do not know that I could entertain this lord, but if you think I could benefit your house, I am in your debt for all you have done."

------------------------

Quietly admiring the dress she had just put on, Sam jumped at the sharp knock on her bedroom door, her fantasizing brought to an abrupt end. The one called Gulda stood in the doorway looking obviously agitated, eyes filled with distress.

"I regret this disturbance, Carter, I know you are preparing, but the warrior refuses to settle for the night." She was wringing her hands together, her anxiety all too evident. "He has rejected all nourishment and is demanding your presence. My mistress is indisposed and I thought it proper to call you. He is…."

'A pain in the butt!' She was shocked at her coarse thoughts and decided she had too long been in the company of this troublesome man.

Seeing the girl was almost at her wit's end, she spoke soothingly, "You did well, Gulda." Sam smiled at her in an attempt to relax the tension but inside, her displeasure with Grey Hair was reaching eruption level especially after all he'd put her through this morning.

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He had been in a foul mood all day starting when she had gone to him that very morning holding up a long nightshirt in triumph. He had looked at it askance and glared at her.

"Very pretty, Carter – so what's the occasion?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, she said, "It is for you. You said you--."

"I said I wanted my own clothes, Carter. I haven't changed my mind," he snapped, his eyes darkening.

"We will start with this," she said brightly, beaming as if to infuse him with her positive spirit. She approached his side taking no notice of the dark scowl he threw at her.

"I want my clothes," he growled, pushing himself up whilst favouring his injured side.

"Why?"

The question seemed to throw him and he looked at her confused.

"For crying out loud, Carter, just do as you're damn well told! I thought it was bad enough explaining my every decision to Daniel."

And right before her eyes, Sam had a flashing impression of a perplexed face with intense blue eyes, a hand pushing up glasses which had slipped down his nose, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had come leaving her with a clearly ill-tempered man on her hands.

Inspiration suddenly dawned. "I will make a bargain with you." Suspicious brown eyes watched her closely. "If you can walk across this room unaided and walk back to your bed, I will do as you request."

She saw the gleam in his eyes as he accepted the challenge and made to move, only to hesitate.

She jumped in, "You decline?"

"Hell, no," he spat back. "I kinda don't want to do this butt naked."

Working hard to suppress her grin, she still found him a most perplexing character – one minute a warrior like no other and the next a shy little boy, unsure of himself.

"Then put this on for a moment." She held out the nightshirt.

He stared resentfully at it for a moment then making his decision, snatched it from her outstretched hand. Sam resisted the urge to help him. He was going to have to do this by himself, and if she was any judge of an illness, there was no way he would manage what she had asked. She wanted him to fail.

Struggling into the nightshirt, Jack immediately felt a little personal self-confidence return. From his bed he eyed the wall across the room, then taking a deep breath he pushed up. For an alarming second the whole area seemed to spin and he tumbled back already noting the triumphant expression on Sam's face. It goaded him to summon hidden reserves and this time, having repeated the movement, he was able to stay up and calm the wild looping of the walls. Carefully, he brought his legs down to the ground and felt himself sway dangerously. Sensing more than seeing Sam's arms reaching out to offer support, he growled at her to keep away, using the bed to assist until he found his balance.

Looking down at himself, he grimaced at the long shirt covering him, and then pulled his thoughts back to what was at hand. Gritting his teeth, he took his first step and fought the burning pain in his side.

His ashen pallor had Sam deciding very quickly that it had been a huge mistake on her part to suggest such folly and she stepped forward to block his way.

"Get out of my way!"

Her eyes spoke as much as her words. "I was wrong to encourage this foolishness. You are not yet strong enough to attempt this feat."

He was swaying dangerously. "Get the hell out of my way and I'll show you what I can do."

Jack's eyes were blisteringly bright and as Sam reached out a helping hand he pushed her away hard. The swaying continued but he was still upright and unsteadily he made his way across the room trying hard to hide his relief when he could put a hand out to support himself on the wall. His look was icily triumphant as he stared deeply into Sam's own troubled gaze, making the return journey his jaw locked in grim determination. A fine film of sweat had covered his brow as he sank back on to his bed, trying hard to conceal the effort it had cost him. Allowing himself a minute to recover and control his laboured breathing, he lifted his head exultantly.

"My clothes, Carter," he ordered, his elation all too evident.

She shook her head and had the grace to look ill-at-ease.

"Carter?" His voice carried warning enough, and as Sam saw the build-up of his anger she realized she had only herself to blame. She should have known he would do the impossible.

"I lied."

Warily she watched his eyes change from disbelief to fury; she was poised for his swift retribution. There was none. His disregard for her almost hurt more. Then suddenly, he propelled himself up and surged past her. "Just forget it, Carter. I'll find them myself."

The door rocked on its hinges as he threw it open but the adrenaline rush was all but depleted and Jack could already see black spots before his eyes, his own weakness sapping the strength from his trembling limbs. Stubbornly, he tried to resist the inevitable but was unable to sustain his own weight. He grabbed the door for support and reluctantly, was forced to accept Sam's assistance back to his bed.

Lying back, an arm thrown across his eyes, his whole body was a knot of outrage and when he felt a cool hand wiping his brow he twisted savagely away, turning on his uninjured side so his back was all Sam could see.

Throughout that morning she had attempted to initiate conversation, to draw her sullen patient into any form of communication, but he resisted all her efforts and, eventually, Sam fell silent.

When Christa came to check up on the invalid, Sam scuttled away, relieved to escape the icy atmosphere of the room.

---------------------------------

And now, having driven her away, he was demanding her presence! She would give him her presence all right she thought resolutely.

Pushing the door to his room open, she had been ready to go straight into a tirade of mega proportions until she saw the utter bewilderment in his dark eyes. And then realizing that it must be her dress and the way her hair had been arranged, she mumbled something about a party, wondering why she should feel the necessity to explain herself to this impossible man.

He didn't appear to take any note of what she had said, though she was later to realise how very mistaken she was. But for now he stared at her with such a piercing look that her unease grew.

"What made you stay?" he asked softly.

"What?" She was totally confused, her expression mirroring her bewilderment.

His eyes drilled into her with intensity. "You could have gone – you didn't." He continued to stare at her, his expressive eyes drawing her ever deeper to him. "Why?" he persisted.

Unaccountably, she felt a wave of panic hit her and felt irritation course through her. "You talk in riddles."

"Just answer me, Carter." It was more a plea than a demand.

She could feel her head aching again, as it had on and off all day. She really didn't need this. "Gulda informs me you are refusing to eat."

Now it was his turn to look impatient. "Dammit, Carter, just answer the goddamn question. Why didn't you leave me where I dropped? I couldn't have stopped you going. Why?" he demanded compellingly.

"I do not know," she snapped, clearly unhappy with the persistence of Jack's questioning. Had she not asked herself the same question and found no answer.

"Unacceptable, Carter. You can do better than that – you're an astrophysicist, for crying out loud!"

She frowned, rubbing a hand at her temple, trying to ease the tension that had been there most of the day.

"I cannot tell you…. It is just…."

"What?" His eyes burned with such fierce intensity Sam was sure the fever must have returned.

"I just…I…I could not leave you behind." And just as she thought her answer was truly pitiable she saw him freeze and then visibly relax and, yes, she was sure, he had given her the briefest of smiles before allowing himself to lie back.

She continued to watch him attentively but it appeared he had nothing further to ask of her.

"Is that all?" she demanded, annoyance again creeping into her tone. "Could this not have waited?"

He looked her in the eye, something there she could not comprehend.

"No, it couldn't wait. …Er, I think I could eat now. Do you think you could rustle me up a juicy steak or something along those lines?"

Sam's blue eyes narrowed in exasperation but when she saw his grey head tilt to one side, a trace of a grin on his tired face, her annoyance evaporated. He looked like a young boy caught in some misdemeanour, using his charms to escape punishment. Well, it was working, she thought wryly.

Approaching his side, she tried hard to keep a stern face.

"Hi, Carter," he said softly, making her blush inexplicably.

Quickly averting her eyes, she spoke softly, "I will have Gulda bring you some nourishment though I do not believe you are quite ready for meat. Soup possibly."

She heard him groan and smiled.

"Aw, give me a break, Carter."

"I do not know what this 'break' is that you request," and turning to Gulda, she gave instructions to the girl. Bobbing a curtsey, the maid exited the room, a look of obvious relief on her face that a crisis had been averted.

Sam felt Jack's eyes perusing her but tried to ignore it as she reached out to feel his forehead, brushing his hair back in a gesture which was almost intimate.

"Nice outfit. Going somewhere?"

She stiffened, unable to understand why she hesitated to tell him where she was going. 'Why on earth would he be interested in these women's arrangements?' she thought apprehensively. "Christa has requested my presence at a formal occasion for some of her ladies."

Well aware what sort of establishment he was in, Jack frowned. The ladies who had been taking care of him hadn't exactly hidden their appreciation of his looks and, even though weak and ill, there had been a number of propositions extended to him for the future which, even if he had no intention of taking up any of said offers, inflated his ego at the offers. Unfortunately, this feeling of bonhomie to the ladies' profession did not extend to his 2IC, and once Jack realized Sam's plans, he was unable to prevent himself from going into full commanding officer mode.

"What the hell are you thinking, Carter?" he snapped icily. "You will NOT attend what you so quaintly describe as a 'formal occasion'," and here the sarcasm dripped from his lips.

Immediately, rebellion settled on Sam's face; she hated the autocratic manner Grey Hair had adopted and neither could Jack fail to notice her defiance. His face darkened, his brown eyes narrowing with a terrible anger.

"Have I made myself clear, Carter?"

Her own eyes snapped a biting reply to accompany her words. "I believe I am of an age to determine my own choices."

"Listen to me, Captain - you'll damned well stand down on this or I'll--."

"You are in no position to make demands," she hissed heatedly.

"The hell I am." He reared up in his bed swallowing a painful gasp. "I'm giving you a direct order!"

Just at that moment Gulda returned holding a tray and beaming happily as she entered the room. The smile fled as she took in the aggressive stance of the blonde woman and the furious look Jack was throwing at her.

Deciding she had really had enough of this volatile man who had the effrontery to speak to her as if she were a common foot soldier in the palace guard, Sam turned on her heel, rolling her eyes at Gulda.

"Damn you, Carter, don't you dare--."

She slammed the door, gaining enormous satisfaction from the resounding crash as the timber banged shut.

Go to Part 11


	11. Chapter 11

One Too Many Planets Part 11 (Conclusion)

Storming back to her room Sam muttered under her breath about insolent men lacking the manners of civilized society. For a moment, when he had almost smiled at her, she had felt her senses melting, his admiration, so clearly apparent, warming her very soul. And then, in the next instant, he was treating her like a …! The conceit of the man was intolerable and next time she promised herself he would feel the sting of her ire on his handsome jaw.

'Handsome? Had she said handsome? And what about next time? Why should there be one? Should she not be attempting to return to her home, to her mother, to her rightful place, to…?'

A pair of dark brown eyes pushed through her thoughts stopping her free flow. She rubbed her temples again, willing the pain and the intruding picture to fade.

'But,' she thought pensively, 'he had noticed her new garment and, in his own strange manner, had indicated that it pleased him.'

She found herself smiling then frowned because she was smiling. Enough! He had erupted into her life as a most unwelcome manner, trying to trick her into believing she lived another life even as he forced her from her real existence. What effrontery!

Chastising herself for wasting time on such a wild, foul tempered ingrate, she turned her thoughts to the evening ahead, rather intrigued at what lay before her.

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She 'was' enjoying this, she tried to convince herself, and if it hadn't been for those dark, liquid eyes intruding on her thoughts, she would have been having a wonderful time. Seeing the ladies entertaining their partners with music, poetry and dancing of the most proper kind, Sam's eyes had been opened wide at the innocence of it all. Even her own partner was being the perfect gentleman, unlike someone she knew she thought wryly, listening to her every word, not finding a need to challenge or argue with her, simply enjoying her company, as she was his.

And so it annoyed her, annoyed her beyond all measure that she was unable to blank out that look Grey Hair had given her when she had answered him perplexedly, "I could not leave you behind." She didn't even know what that meant, for goodness sakes, but it seemed to satisfy him, her Colonel. Her Colonel? She shuddered. Now she was in trouble.

"My lady?"

Sam started, realizing her partner had been speaking to her and was awaiting her reply. Returning to the present she stared into the courtier's puzzled eyes then dropped them in embarrassment that she had not been paying attention.

"Forgive me, Lord Diago, I…I am afraid my mind is trying to inform me that it is time to retire." She rose to her feet, her actions swiftly duplicated by the handsome courtier whose admiring green eyes had never once wavered from her face the whole evening they had been together. She recognized the disappointment, and trying to make amends continued, "Would you be so kind as to escort me to my quarters?"

The man's confusion grew. "Quarters?"

Momentarily flustered, San wondered why she had spoken such a strange word. "I…I mean, my room," she corrected.

The confusion disappeared as a broad smile of delight lit up the man's features.

"It will be my pleasure, My Lady."

----------------------------

And now, as she opened her door and turned back to bid Diago goodnight, his hands gently took hold of her shoulders and his lips lowered to hers. Just for an instant she stiffened, but his gentle persistence won through and she felt her senses warm to the feel of his touch and she felt herself respond in kind.

In his embrace Sam hadn't quite realized that she had been turned until she opened her eyes and met a pair of dark cynical eyes observing her from within her room.

Startled, she jumped away as if scalded, while Diago yet again regarded her with bewilderment, unaware he was being watched by another.

Breathless, she managed to splutter, "I…I again beg pardon, My Lord. I…I…the hour is late. Your charges will wonder of your presence. I bid you goodnight, Lord Diago."

And with a short curtsy she had seen the novices perform, she hurried past the man, shutting her door. She remained facing her closed door, eyes shut tight, waiting, knowing something derisive would be said. She didn't have to wait long.

"Enjoying yourself, Carter?" His voice was cool, detached.

Sam swallowed, moistening lips that had suddenly turned dry. Slowly, unaware of how appealing she looked at that moment, she turned to face Jack, who was still lounging on her bed fully clothed in his BDUs.

She glared at him, wondering why she should feel so ill at ease. "What are you doing in my room, and what are you doing in those?" She indicated his clothing. "How did you get them?"

"Wanted to, wanted them and that's for you to find out," he rolled off smugly in quick succession.

Sam's eyes flashed with irritation.

Jack didn't take his eyes off her. "So, the guy whose tonsils you were admiring, who's he?" Again, Jack's tone was completely neutral though the glint in his eyes belied that fact and in a second, intuition made her pause and she smiled calculatingly.

"Lord Diago? He is a man of good breeding…" Jack's eyebrows rose. "…and gentle manners, who knows well how to treat a lady."

"Yeah, saw that." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"You could learn much from a man of his rank and nobility."

Raising himself from the bed, Jack snorted in exasperation. "I have my rank, Carter, it serves me just fine."

It was Sam's turn to snort and Jack's head shot up, his expression dark.

"And what the hell does that mean?"

Her smile was so very superior. "Nothing, simply nothing," she replied sweetly.

"The guy probably doesn't have a brain in his head," he sneered caustically, angry with himself for wanting to take her in his arms and give her a concrete lesson on how kissing should be done.

"Is that so?" Sashai was appraising Grey Hair in a highly pretentious manner making Jack feel ever so slightly uncomfortable. "Then naturally," she continued coming to stand at the base of her bed, "you will have no interest in the strange metal circle of which he has spoken." Her blue eyes, a lighter shade than her dress, sparkled triumphantly until his hand shot out grasping her wrist and before she had time to react, she felt herself jerked against his firm body.

"The Stargate? What did he say? Did he mention its exact location?" he demanded gruffly.

Smugly, she answered, "Yes, much, and that is for you to find out."

She felt his grip tighten further but she maintained her cool poise staring into his irate dark eyes until, with a growl, he thrust her away shoving both his hands deep into his trouser pockets. The force in him was unmistakable and yet, Sam knew she had no reason to feel fear. She knew, without understanding why, that this man would never harm her.

"I don't do the bended knee begging thing, it just doesn't suit me." His manner was self-deprecatory as he attempted to lighten the atmosphere, yet the underlying tension still remained.

Sam chuckled. "Oh, I do not know."

His scowling eyes shot up to meet hers.

"Mayhaps a simple entreaty would benefit this situation," she continued, smiling all the more engagingly.

Looking as if he would prefer to play ball with a Goa'uld System Lord, Jack mumbled something inaudible.

Her head tilted engagingly as she encouraged, "Beg pardon, Colonel, but I failed to hear your words."

Jack's eyes smouldered, his lips tightly compressed as he glared back at her. She held her ground.

"I will make you pay for this, Carter. You do know that?"

She grinned at him in a way only Sam Carter ever had. "If you say so," she answered smugly, "yet in the meantime…?"

"Please!" He ground it out as if the very word offended him.

"I think you may need to work on your social skills, Colonel."

"Carter!" It was a clear warning and Sam understood she had gone as far as she dared without eliciting some form of repercussion.

She smiled indulgently. "Remember if you will, how you told me we should follow a route to a lake north of this town?"

Jack nodded, his eyes riveted to her.

"Well, it seems there is an area close by in which it is forbidden to enter on penalty of death. There, is found a sacred metal circle which, it is said, has brought forth spirit travellers from strange lands. But this, according to Lord Diago, is hearsay only. He himself knows of no one who has seen such wonders and yet, such is the belief that one of his duties is to ensure the townsfolk stay well away – for their own safety, he assured me."

Jack's eyes rolled at her last words. "The guy can do no wrong in your eyes, eh Carter?" But still his dark eyes burned with excitement at what he had heard. "I knew it had to be here. I just didn't know how we got transported without the darn thing."

She watched him, smiling to herself having never seen him so elated.

"We've got to go. Now!"

Sam was rooted to the spot, hardly daring to meet his eyes. She shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

"Carter?" Jack's voice had risen in volume.

'How could she tell him?' she wondered frantically. 'How could she destroy the light which burned so brightly in his eyes, shatter that look which would stay with her long after he had gone? No, let him have his dreams for a while as she had her own.'

She stilled her fears and faced him, hiding from him what she knew must be hidden.

"I…I need to change my attire and I will make my farewells to Christa."

"No goodbyes, Carter – can't afford to jeopardize the home run."

"Home run?"

He failed to hide his exasperation. "For crying out loud, Carter – we're almost home…They'll run out the red carpet when they see you and it might just save me from a court martial."

"A what?"

"It's a long story. Doc'll want to sort out your memory loss ASAP so the sooner we get back…

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She had tried persuading him to wait another night to build up his strength but the necessity to be moving could not be prevented and, in the end, she had 'borrowed' two horses from the stables.

They had ridden cautiously, aware of sentries and evading any signs of people once they left the darkened town.

As they rode at a steady canter, Sam checked her riding companion and noted he was favouring his side. Her offer to stop for a rest was met with a curt shake of his head, his gaze remaining fixed on the moonlit road ahead.

Meanwhile, the intensity of her headache had steadily grown and she rued having drunk the alcohol which she felt was aggravating her discomfort.

Holding the reins in one hand, she gingerly massaged her temples hoping to ease the stabbing pain and, at that moment, a picture flashed into her mind of herself in the same attire she had on now, walking side by side with Grey Hair and two others, one large and dark skinned with a strange gold symbol seemingly attached to his forehead. She was laughing at something said and turned back to speak with the remaining member whose blue eyes shone with merriment behind rimmed glasses. And then the image disappeared, leaving Sam confused and dejected by something she felt was out of her control.

She turned her head observing Grey Hair as he sat partially hunched over the neck of his mount. He was in pain, she was sure of it, but he refused to acknowledge the fact, would, she was sure, lie to her if she called him on it. She cast her mind back to what he had told her when they had first met, about her being a part of some strange sounding group – SB-1? And there were two others who were also a part of this group. 'Could the picture in her mind be them?' she wondered. She grimaced, wishing the ache would just go and allow her to think clearly. Now, more than ever, she needed her head to be clear.

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In the end it was decided to leave the horses tethered to a place where they would easily be spotted in daylight and they made the last part of the journey on foot, Jack ever cautious that their presence be concealed.

Slowly, cautiously they made their way through the shadowed countryside undistinguishable from that of earth until it was Sam herself who hissed excitedly, "There!" She dropped down naturally, Jack following her with less fluidity in his movements.

He grimaced as the pain in his side became more pronounced and his left arm lay across his stomach, a hand protectively held over his semi-healed wound. He was fairly certain his injury had reopened and was bleeding. He shook his head and realized that even as his own situation was deteriorating, all was not well with Sam either. Every now and again he had seen her put a hand to her temple and rub it gingerly. There was a tightness round her eyes and mouth that attested to discomfort, though when he'd questioned her earlier she had in true Carter fashion simply frowned and said, "Nothing to worry about, Sir."

Stiffening as if shocked, Jack had demanded, "What did you say?"

She had looked surprise then muttered, "It's nothing."

Clearly irritated, he had snapped testily, "No, not that."

And she had looked perplexed.

"Sir. You said 'Sir'!" But if he thought this was going to bring enlightenment he was to be sadly mistaken.

"I did?" She obviously did not understand the deeper meaning behind this word, though she could see Grey Hair was indeed excited.

"Yes, you did." Even with his increasing weakness he knew that if Sam tried to deny what he'd heard, so help him, he believed he would give her a shaking simply to bring her to her senses. Her true self was attempting to come through but, as far as he was concerned, it wasn't happening fast enough.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Jack was beside himself. "Carter, don't you understand?"

He was giving her one of those 'Are you really that dense?' looks Daniel usually reserved for him. He hoped she'd get the meaning. "Your memory must be returning if you call me 'Sir'."

The look she threw him was pointedly sceptical which drove Jack's blood pressure to new heights and tempted him sorely to carry out that shaking thing except he knew that trying to force Sam's hand would not do good in the long run. He just had to accept that this was one positive sign and more would follow. After all, wasn't he Mr. Optimist and Mr. Patience combined? He shook his head resignedly then told himself they were nearly home. Not much further and he could relax and let Doc's happy juice work its wonders knowing he'd got Sam safely home.

-----------------------

The guards weren't even remotely interested in their duty. And why should they? Nothing of import had, to their knowledge, ever occurred at this supposedly magic circle in their life time. And now, sprawled some distance from the Gate, their weapons were strewn on the ground and Jack was happy to see they were nowhere near to hand. A picture of dereliction of duty and one he was delighted to see in any opposing forces. But woe betide anyone under his command who was caught napping on duty – there was only one outcome, a fast track ticket to the dullest, longest posting on earth

He knew there had been times when he'd been more than relieved to see the Stargate, but this had to be one of those all time highs and as he was about to punch in the co-ordinates he hesitated. Sensing Sam at his shoulder he held back, acutely aware of the danger in wasting time. He held the GDO, ready to send SG-1'S own personal ID as soon as the wormhole was activated.

Sam had been having more and more trouble holding herself together as the pain in her head had grown unbearable. She had made the decision that she would promise to follow Grey Hair through the magic ring and then simply not do it. She would hide in the copse nearby in the hope that neither Diago's men nor Grey Hair, should he return, would find her. Of course, her plan depended on the fact that the wounded man would go through the circle first. If he insisted on being a gentleman, she would have to fall back on hoping he would be too weak to actually force her. She grimaced, the thought being almost too much to contemplate.

With all these wild ideas racing round her head, and trying to control the pain, she continued to watch as the man put his hand on the strange circular disc that stood near the circle. He had, she noted, pressed three of the seven strange signs encircling the large red circle in the centre in a seemingly random fashion when he abruptly clutched his side doubling over.

"Finish it, Carter," he gasped, eyes closed as he tried to ride out the pain lancing through him.

"Wha-at?" Her own discomfort forgotten, she glared at the man beside her, aghast that he was unable to complete what was necessary to allow a passage home. "I…I know not how!"

"That's crap!" Dark eyes opened and bore into her, the words uttered forcefully through gritted teeth. "Do it…you can remember!"

Doubt cast a sombre shadow over blue eyes bright with pain.

"Dammit, how am I supposed to--?"

'Yes, you're even losing that crazy speech!' "Remember, Carter, you can – please!"

It was, she had to admit, his vehement appeal that made her stop, made her pause and honestly think of the possibility that he just might be right; that all he had said was indeed the truth. She screwed her eyes tightly shut feeling the pull from two opposing sides.

Shards of pain tore into her temples and she whimpered from the torment, yet still she could hear this man demanding, appealing to her to get them home.

She shook her head, gasping at the movement, angry with the man's persistence. 'For God's sakes, all he had to do was…' Almost automatically, she felt her own hand move over the remaining symbols, her hand, of its own volition, depressing and activating four more hieroglyphics. Following this, her hand came down on the bright red circle.

She wasn't even startled when the whole circle lit up and produced a vortex of shimmering water, her eyes were on Grey Hair who was looking at her disconcertingly, the dark depths of his eyes swimming with such emotion that she found herself moving towards him.

"You did it, Carter."

He reached out a hand and she took it ascending the steps to the very shimmering door of the circle.

"You remembered…I knew you would. You've got us home."

She smiled then, her pain forgotten as she raised a hand and touched his cheek, her own eyes beginning to fill with tears.

"You have touched my heart, Colonel," and aware of the approaching guards continued, "now you are right, it is time to return."

He nodded, reaching into her caress, unaware that her other hand was already reaching behind him. She made to enter the shimmering mirror at his side, and as he moved forward in step, desperate to return, desperate to have his team whole again, he felt her falter. He tried to halt his propulsion just as the thrust on his back sent him hurtling headlong through the vortex.

"Sa-aaam!"

--------------------

He was still yelling as he came flying out the other side of the Stargate, landing heavily on his weak knee and falling in a heap on the ramp. He swore with the pain, all too aware that his blonde 2IC was not at his side and that he'd been fooled, had fallen for a trick that any wet-behind-the-ears cadet would have seen through.

Cries of delight and the thunder of footsteps were followed by gentle hands turning him, but he pushed away their comfort and ignored their soothing words of reassurance, his sole intent being to get back through the wormhole.

"Sam!" He had to return, he couldn't lose her again, couldn't accept that her choice had been made and it wasn't him. He'd seen the look in her eyes, seen what he had only dreamt of – she was his in almost every sense of the word and there was no way, no f-cking way he was going to allow her to simply disappear again.

He pushed himself up, aware of the danger of appearing desperate and crazed. Controlling his breathing, holding in his pain, he stared into concerned eyes oblivious to the fact that he was surrounded by the General, Janet, Teal'c and Daniel.

"I'm fine, guys. I'm fine. Help me up, for crying out loud! Carter's back there – we need to go and get her – NOW!" And when the same comforting hands made no move to assist his leaden limbs, he pushed himself up paying no attention to the "Easy, Colonel", refusing to accept that his demands were being ignored yet again. "She's just there…" His head twisted back to the still open gate, straining to return. This nightmare scenario couldn't be repeating itself, not after all he'd been through. "You've got to dial back that planet's coordinates!"

He was vaguely aware of the sudden sharp pain in his arm and a black velvet blanket enveloped him into oblivion.

----------------------------

'What the--?' Dr. Janet Fraiser almost did a double take as she pushed aside the curtains surrounding the patient's bed. "Going somewhere, Colonel?"

'Crap. Busted!'

She was quick to note that her exasperated gaze bounced off an unrepentant O'Neill who had just managed to detach himself from the last piece of tubing attached to his body and was now in the process of pushing himself up and off the bed.

He swayed ominously, but ignored it just as he ignored the CMO's sharp order to lie down. He was determined to get Sam back even if it meant…he stumbled and felt his body start to fall until Janet's arms locked around his chest preventing any further damage to his abused body.

He found himself staring, much too close for comfort, into eyes of flint and groaned. Here was a challenge, not like the young nurse who'd been assigned to guard him and whom he'd coerced into going on a wild goose chase. Attempting to draw away, he felt the sharp pull from his wound at the same time as he met firm resistance and definite pushing.

"You can let go, Doc," he ordered.

'When pigs can fly!' "Not until you're back in bed, Colonel."

She recognized that stubborn glint in his eye and braced herself.

"Not gonna happen, Doc. As your superior, I'm--."

All too aware of how pale he was, she realized that the energy he'd expended was about to have a painful comeback and just as she felt his knees buckle she coerced and chivvied his protesting body back to the bed, where she allowed him to fall back none too gracefully. He gasped from the pain but turned it into a growl of protest.

"Damn it, Doc, I've got to--."

"You've 'got' to stay in bed, Colonel." And to accompany her firm words she swept the rails of the bed up, moving to the opposite side to repeat the action. "And I was about to bring you some visitors, but it appears various catheters have worked loose." She pinned him with an icy glare but seeing his misery she relented, her frown softening as she reached out to replace the IV in his left hand. "Come on in, guys; he's just about presentable."

"Doc, I--." His protest evaporated in the antiseptic air as his eyes fell on the wheelchair being carefully manoeuvred through the curtains by Teal'c, with Daniel bringing up the rear. He stiffened. "Carter?" Bruised eyes hungrily moved over the pyjama clad figure sporting a large dressing over her left ear.

He watched her with an intensity that would have done justice to a hawk on the wing. Too pale, too…what? If he didn't know better, he'd say she looked afraid? Crap!

"How are you, Sir?"

The agitation that had engulfed him since he'd stepped back through the Stargate, dissolved in an instant and he lay back against his pillows, eyes closed almost as if saying a silent prayer.

"I'm fine, Carter." His eyes had opened and were trying to search hers except that the moment their eyes met, Sam's darted away as if unwilling to meet his frank appraisal.

"O'Neill, it is good to have you back."

Jack's eyes reluctantly moved to the Jaffa and Daniel who was standing at his side, and he smiled weakly.

"Missed me?"

The reply was not what he'd expected.

"We did not," was the emphatic reply.

And seeing Jack's confusion, Daniel hurriedly went on to explain, "Er, the General wasn't too amused when he learned of our involvement in your off world exploits, Jack." Daniel smiled self-consciously whilst Teal'c merely assumed his superior air.

Janet snorted at the delicate approach and decided it was high time to make things transparently clear.

"Daniel and Teal'c have been getting acquainted with the brig, Colonel."

Daniel frowned at the memory; the General had even refused to allow him any books which had been a real blow. At least Teal'c had been able to do his kelnoreem, whilst Daniel had had to resort to twiddling his thumbs.

"Wha-at?" Jack was aghast and pushed himself painfully up on his elbows. And all the while his eyes were on his team mates, Sam's eyes were riveted on her CO.

"General Hammond was most upset when he was informed you had left, O'Neill

"He wasn't the only one," Janet interjected pointedly, making Jack squirm uncomfortably.

Aware that Sam's questioning eyes were on him, he swung back to meet her look only to find her gaze had darted away leaving him feeling unaccountably anxious.

"I'm sorry I got you into this mess. If I'd known--."

"Jack, you got Sam back for us." Daniel interrupted passionately, his blue eyes blazing with the intensity of his feelings. "We'd have spent a darn sight longer in jail just to have her home. Isn't that right, Teal'c?"

For anyone taking the trouble to look, Sam had blushed a deep pink and appeared to shrink into herself.

"I concur wholeheartedly, though I am of the belief that General Hammond has not concluded his disciplinary action."

Daniel rolled his eyes while Jack grimaced trying not to allow his overly creative imagination free rein on that subject. Still, he'd managed to bring Sam back –'That should surely be--. Wait a second.' He frowned. He hadn't actually brought her back. She'd given him a sharp push through the wormhole as if she'd had no intention of following. His dark, questioning eyes returned to hers and yet again, blue orbs flickered away and she shifted restlessly in the wheelchair.

"Okay, people, that's enough. Captain Carter looks as if she needs to return to her bed," and fixing Jack with a stern look, continued, "and Colonel O'Neill and I have to have a little discussion on a few issues."

"Aw, c'mon Doc, can't this--."

"Well, if you want Captain Carter around while I reattach all the lines…" And now she was gazing down at his nether regions, wearing a decidedly smug expression.

'Crap!' Jack blinked feeling the colour rise in his neck and face. He noticed Teal'c's studiously neutral expression and wished he'd stayed with that because Daniel looked as if he were ready to burst a lung. He carefully avoided his 2IC's expression and managed to give the archaeologist a look that was intended to promise severe retribution in the very near future, but to his consternation Daniel's colour merely grew redder and as he preceded Teal'c and Sam back through the curtains, Jack couldn't fail to hear the laughter.

Jack was not amused but, there again, when he met the CMO's accusing glare he realized she wasn't either. This was so not a good position to be in – at the mercy of a despotic medical officer, a severely pissed medical officer. He closed his eyes in the faint hope that he'd be allowed to rest in peace.

"And where, may I ask, is Lt. Fern?"

'Fat chance.' Jack grimaced and opened his eyes. "Er…she ran an errand for me."

"Did she now?" Janet was tapping her foot – not a good sign. The distinct glint in Janet's eye was having a disturbing effect, particularly as the CMO was taking out a fresh Foley and preparing to insert it.

"Doc, is it really neces--."

"Would you prefer that I permitted Lt. Fern do the honours?" Janet murmured menacingly, and seeing her patient's chastened expression, said sourly, "That's what I thought, Sir."

Once she had completed all the necessary checks she stepped back snapping off her gloves and disposing of them in a swing-top bin.

"Now, about that talk, Sir."

"I don't think I want to hear this."

"Rank does have its privileges, Colonel, and so, although this may come as a surprise," and here Janet smiled frostily, "I've decided that although you left the infirmary without permission, thereby causing me to reprimand every person on duty that night, I won't make an issue of it."

The blast of euphoria was suddenly replaced by a cold dread which Jack could feel coursing through his veins and it had nothing to do with the medication. And seeing the realization in his eyes, Janet smiled agreeably.

"General Hammond requested he be informed the moment you were fit and able to receive him," she said with an enormous amount of satisfaction.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Jack stared the Doctor straight in the eye.

"He was pretty mad, was he?"

"You could say that."

"Don't suppose it's worn off somewhat?" Jack's expression wasn't exactly hopeful while Janet looked ever more like the proverbial cat with the cream.

"You've got twenty-four hours, Sir, and then you can expect one seriously irate CO on your doorstep."

Jack shrank back onto his bed, realizing just how bleak his future was looking.

-------------------------------

He'd suffered the indignity of a bed bath and a shave without so much as a word of complaint, though Lt. Fern did think Jack's clenched jaw spoke volumes and made her just that little more nervous. When she'd nicked his neck a second time, she'd been sure she'd receive a severe bawling out but, to his credit, Jack chewed his cheek to ribbons and wisely remained silent.

'One good deed deserves another.' The litany echoed round his head like a mantra so when General Hammond eventually pushed aside the curtains surrounding his bed, Jack had almost convinced himself that he was going to survive whatever it was his CO was going to throw at him.

The senior officer stood erect, his expression sombre. "Colonel, it's good to see you looking well."

Jack's shoulders stiffened. "General, it's good to be well." He grimaced at how lame he sounded but he was trying to be careful not to say anything that would put him deeper in the mire than he already was. Desperately trying to pick up on his CO's tone, he realized that neutrality was the name of the game. General Hammond was giving nothing away.

The stocky man looked down on the recumbent man now with an almost paternal expression which Jack found slightly disconcerting.

"You do know I can't let your insubordination go without redress?"

Eyes lowered in submission, Jack's irreverence wouldn't be smothered. "Oh, I don't know, General," And then seeing his CO's lips tighten ominously, Jack's tone dropped respectfully. "Yes, sir."

"No one is more delighted than me to have Captain Carter back, Colonel; however, the manner in which this was achieved leaves a lot to be desired."

'Oh, crap. This is not looking good.' Jack could feel himself holding his breath ready for the axe to fall. 'Court martial, dishonourable discharge?' He braced himself for what was to come, adamant that nothing would be revealed in his face. He'd already accepted that if he was out of the SCG it was worth it – Sam was back – it was enough, more than enough.

"Dr. Fraiser has informed me she expects you will be ready to return to full duties in three weeks. So with that time scale in mind, I expect you to report to me three weeks from today, 0800 hours."

"Dress uniform?"

"No." Jack's eyes widened in surprise. "BDUs will be fine; this is going to be a training exercise."

"Training exercise?" Jack couldn't suppress his astonishment nor his relief.

The General watched him carefully.

"That's correct, Colonel. A training exercise – off world. Duration, one month."

Working hard to keep his delight hidden, Jack met his CO's stern gaze with equanimity. At any other time, the thought of having to train up a group of fresh faced airmen would have had him cursing like a boot camp instructor, but he knew that this was a walk in the park compared to what he could have got.

"Sir, I assure you I'll do a great job."

"Oh, I know you will, Colonel, I know you will."

For just a moment, a glimmer of doubt entered Jack's mind as he observed the General's expression. 'Was he hiding something?' But just as quickly he decided that wasn't the General's way. 'All that worry for the last twenty-four hours – all for nothing.' He shook his head at his folly.

"Anything wrong, Colonel?"

He snapped out of his reverie. "Er…no, no, not at all. Everything's hunky dory…Sir." Jack gave a clipped smile, still unable to take in just how well he had escaped the wrath of his CO.

"Very well, Colonel. Now that that's taken care of, I'll take a seat, if you're up to having a social visitor."

Jack grinned in relief, resorting to his usual facetious self. "Draw up a chair, General – not the most comfortable you'll admit, but hell, Sir, my scintillating company will take your mind off your bu-- …er, the discomfort."

It was only much later that Jack realized that the General hadn't even demanded an apology. Once again the grey haired man thanked his lucky stars that he had such an understanding and civilized CO. However, in retrospect he should have known it could never be that easy – that there was going to be payback – big time. But for the moment, he had Sam Carter on his mind and until he sorted things out with her, he wasn't too hot on clear, rational thinking.

-------------------------

As General Hammond walked out of the infirmary doors, his momentum was momentarily halted by the whoop of victory that had so obviously emanated from behind Jack's closed curtains, and for an instant the blue eyes hardened stonily.

'Let's see if you'll be whooping in three week's time, Colonel.'

-------------------------

"What? Is that it?" Daniel looked positively aggrieved and he wasn't made to feel any better by the supercilious look on his friend's face. "You mean to say he didn't threaten you?" Eyebrows raised, Daniel clearly doubted what Jack had just told him, though Teal'c appeared to find no difficulty in accepting O'Neill's version of events.

"Threaten?" Jack sounded puzzled.

"Yea, you know, like…" Daniel could feel his face reddening as he faltered, pushing up the glasses on the end of his nose.

"You mean with the brig?... Nah."

"No, not the brig." Daniel was definitely sounding affronted as he stood in defensive mode, arms wrapped tightly around himself. "Kind of…er, well…the, er, the physical thing." His eyes dropped to the toes of his shoes, unable to meet Jack's puzzled gaze.

"Physical?" Jack sounded even more perplexed.

Teal'c decided he had had enough with the prevarication. "What Daniel Jackson is trying to say, O'Neill, is that General Hammond threatened him with physical chastisement."

"Wha-at?"

Daniel's glare was stony as he raised his eyes.

"I believe you Tauri call it a 'thrashing'."

"Thrashing?"

Daniel stiffened as he sensed the laughter simmering in Jack's eyes.

"Aw, c'mon, Daniel – the General? You've got to be kidding."

"I assure you, O'Neill, General Hammond was not in the least humourous when he was addressing Daniel Jackson. I believe he was quite ready to take on the paternal role in the light of such juvenile behaviour."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "And don't you figure in this quote juvenile unquote behaviour?" he asked dryly.

"Indeed I do not." Teal'c's tone had exceeded supercilious, and with his nose in the air he continued, "General Hammond was of the opinion that I could not allow either of you to take such undertakings alone – of necessity I would be at either yours or Daniel Jackson's side."

"And so, magnanimously, you accompanied Daniel to the brig." Jack's sarcasm was bone dry, yet it appeared Teal'c chose to ignore it, merely nodding his head majestically.

Jack turned back to Daniel. "And, so how come you escaped General Dad's hiding?" This time he was relatively serious, attempting to appease his aggrieved friend.

"I…I had to promise to behave."

Jack's dark eyes looked distinctly baleful. "You? Behave? Hah, fat chance."

And now Jack understood why Daniel was so blisteringly annoyed – Daniel knew he could never live by the conditions set by the General. He was born to break rules as long as it meant solving a linguistic mystery. He'd had no compunction in disobeying Jack's orders in the past, didn't consider the consequences when he was on a quest. But all of a sudden, something unpleasant hung over the young linguist, forcing him to be aware of his actions, to never lose himself entirely in the nature of his work. Once again he had responsibilities – not to Share or the people of Abydos, but for his own skin. The thought of being treated like a three year old was too horrific to contemplate. And now the injustice was doubled, if not trebled. Here was Jack, the worst offender – who had got off with not even a simple slap on the wrists. It really wasn't fair and Daniel's hurt eyes reflected the injustice he felt so keenly.

Jack held his hands up in a placating manner. "Hey, don't blame me that you're not in the Air Force. Superior Officers are constrained not to lay hands on the men under their command…I suppose that's why I escaped the lecture."

Daniel was still not appeased, his sullen voice attesting to the fact. "It's alright for you, Jack. He doesn't treat you as if you were--."

"A spoilt brat? And can I help it if you look so young and vulnerable as to induce paternal protection?" Jack carefully failed to explain that Daniel could be an incredible pain in the butt and that the General was probably just returning the compliment.

"Protection?" Daniel was livid. "In no uncertain terms, I was promised a march to the woodshed." And seeing a clear lack of sympathy, Daniel glowered and turned away.

"Look at it this way, Daniel." The archaeologist paused at the curtains and looked over his shoulder. He was to wish he hadn't. "Having General Hammond as a father figure could prove to be beneficial – and if you give me a few weeks, I'll come up with one of those many benefits, for sure." At this point Jack burst out laughing, leaving Daniel to stomp off in high dudgeon.

-----------------------

'One down, one to go.' Now that he was alone and meant to rest, Jack was able to turn his attention to the overriding concern in his life. And as Lt. Fern entered his enclosed area, he gave her a warm, welcoming grin which sent her own internal alarm system ringing for all its worth.

Having listened to his request, the junior nurse looked definitely doubtful. "Sir, Dr. Fraiser warned me about this. She said you'd try--."

"Me?" Jack's theatrically aggrieved voice should have gained him an Oscar nomination at the very least. Then adopting a contrite expression, he pushed another button. "You know what it's like to want to help one of your team, Fern? And I promise I won't be long. You can take me to the Captain's room. I promise I'll wait there until you come and get me."

The young lieutenant's eyes showed hesitation, yet there was also understanding. For some unaccountable reason, she had a soft spot for the one patient almost all of the SGC medical staff tried to stay well clear of when he was a patient. Being a relatively new member of Janet's nursing staff, she had only been given the duty of watching the Colonel while he was unconscious. Janet had certainly not expected her patient to rouse so soon on the occasion she'd found him disconnecting himself from all the medical machinery, when he'd easily been able to get rid of Fern. However, the lieutenant had forgiven the Colonel this indiscretion and seemed willing to be in his company permitting Janet to give the other members of her staff a reprieve whilst filling in the fresh-faced young lieutenant on the wiles and ways of one stubborn, cantankerous Air Force colonel.

"Ten minutes, Fern, that's all I'm asking." And adopting the little boy lost routine, so familiar to both the CMO and General Hammond, the young woman was lost.

---------------------------

"Sir?" Sam's surprise was all too evident as she watched her CO being wheeled into her room and the nurse retiring.

Jack smiled happy to see that she was at least doing her usual thing – working on her laptop. It made him feel a little less anxious until he looked closer and saw her doing something he was so extraordinarily talented at – putting those barriers up, giving a great show of indifference.

'Oh no you don't, Captain!' "Thought we'd have a chat, Carter – talk about our little escapade."

Deliberately, she kept her eyes on her laptop screen.

"Nothing to talk about, Sir," she mumbled, her eyes flickering up to his then bounding away nervously.

Jack refused to be averted from his course of action. "Oh, I don't know – you got my butt out of a sticky situation." He patted his still heavily bandaged side. "Doc says I'm lucky to be around. She also told me they'd found some something strange in your blood which could account for your memory loss." He frowned more to himself, "though it doesn't explain why those people would try and make you think you were someone else."

Sam smiled weakly. "I…I don't really remember all that much." She wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Yea, well, I do know that if you hadn't found Christa I might not be here now. Imagine." His eyes twinkled, but there was no answering smile. "Carter?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes, the wariness in her expression mirrored in her grave eyes which seemed to have lost their entire colour.

"Hey," he spoke softly. "I'm trying to say thank you, Sam."

Just for a moment he thought he caught a fleeting glimpse of such bewilderment that the breath caught in his throat and he stilled. Manoeuvring his chair closer, he reached out and took Sam's chin in his hand so that she had to meet him eye to eye.

"If you're pissed with me I'd rather you told me – I can take it." 'I think.'

She attempted to wrest away but his hold tightened. "Ah ah – not gonna happen – come on. Out with it."

He could see a darkening of her eyes just as her lips tightened and the stubborn glint lit up the darkness.

"What do you want me to say, Colonel?"

Accustomed to an amenable 2IC, Jack was slightly taken aback by the bite in Sam's tone – it seemed she'd retained more of Sashai's ways than he'd expected. Hell, he'd have to watch her temper.

"I just want you to tell me how you feel, and so help me, if you dare say 'fine', I'll…" He froze. 'Way to go, Jack. Threaten her and expect her to spill her guts.'

Carefully, he leaned back in his chair. The hard edge left his voice and he held his hands up in a conciliatory way.

"I just wanted you to know that," Jack grimaced, not feeling all that comfortable himself and hesitating as he stumbled to find words suitable to express his feelings, "hell, Carter, we're okay aren't we?" 'Oh, such eloquence, Jack,' he chastised himself grimly.

Slowly, she looked up searching for something he wasn't sure was there for her.

"I don't know, Sir. Are we?"

For a moment his legs tensed to push himself out of his chair and to reach out for her, but the years of discipline were ingrained into his very core and what his soul told him to do, he simply didn't – gripping the armrests of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

"Why did you come back?" he demanded softly. "I knew you weren't going to after you gave me that 'helpful' push through the Gate." He noted her flush and allowed his features to soften. "Hey, you can talk to me. Lighten up."

Something in his tone made her eyes, that had refused to meet his, now lock with his and he stilled at the painful vulnerability he saw in their depths.

"Carter, if you don't talk, I can't help you!"

The hint of a smile touched her lips. "I never took you for the talkative type, Sir."

He had the grace to look sheepish and grabbed one of the smaller manuals on her bed, instinctively flipping through the pages, the simple act of allowing his fingers to be occupied somehow reducing the tension within him. Keeping his head lowered, he said softly, "I promised myself there was something I'd do once we got you back."

He sensed her eyes on him and quelled the urge to fidget even more.

"Nothing mind blowing like saving the world or eliminating another System Lord. Just…I…" 'Ah crap, just get on with it, O'Neill.' "I wanted to apologise."

He stilled the moment he'd spoken the words and looking up, he found Sam's eyes fixed on him. He knew there could be no half measures.

"I didn't mean to kiss Kelly. I'm still not sure how it happened. I…I guess I was angry."

"Angry?" Sam echoed the word in surprise.

"Hell, yes." He could feel the thumping of his heart increasing.

"Why?" She couldn't contain her incredulity.

"Because I couldn't…" He could feel his irritation levels increase at his own lack of communication skills. He was sounding more and more like a goddamn adolescent going through puberty. "…give me a break here."

"Why?" Sam pressed, almost holding her breath.

"Do you really need to ask that, Carter?"

Her eyes burned into him and he felt an intense need to fidget. Exhaling a shaky breath he knew the answer to that and rubbed a hand across his face.

"When I lost you on PX…," His face scrunched up as he tried to remember, "…whatever, I felt…I felt."

She saw his eyes darken as memories assailed him and a haunted desolation swam in their depths.

"It's okay, Sir," she whispered, gently bringing him back to reality.

"Is it, Carter?" His words conveyed far more and she knew it as he smiled sadly. "So, why did you come back?" he repeated, staring her straight in the eye.

And for the first time, the faint hint of a smile showed. "Do you really need me to tell you, Colonel?"

And understanding the answer, Jack smiled, feeling the tension seep out of his body.

"You know, Carter, I've got a cabin in the lakes where you can fish to your heart's content and never--."

The door flew open as Lt. Fern's agitated face peeked through.

"Sir, Ma'am, Doctor Fraiser has just reappeared and if I don't get you back to your bed…" She left the rest to their imaginations.

"Guess this will have to wait, Carter."

His expression was both wistful and full of promise as the wheelchair was propelled backwards and he just managed to raise a hand in farewell before the door closed on him saying, "You know Lieutenant, your timing sucks big time."

------------------------------

Hands in pockets, whistling merrily, Jack O'Neill was a welcome sight as he strolled the corridors of Cheyenne Mountain and personnel acknowledged his return with welcome smiles, warm nods and energetic salutes.

Jack's bravery had never been in question with any person who worked in Stargate Command, but it was felt he had gone well beyond that call of duty when he absconded and eventually returned with Captain Carter. And while Jack's military feats were admired, Captain Carter's popularity was, without exception, heartfelt by everyone and so Jack's popularity had been raised significantly by this extraordinary exploit and had gone down in the annals of SGC history.

And as General Hammond waited patiently in his office, being an astute man, he was well aware of the feelings of the personnel under his care. Hell, he had to admit he joined in those feelings of intense relief, happiness and admiration. However – and this was where his path diverged from the daisy covered meadows and passed into thorny wilds – his job was to ensure the smooth running of an organization so unusual it defied description, with a cast of personnel that fell into the same highly atypical category. It took careful handling and limitless patience to ensure all went according to military dictates. And while he welcomed and encouraged his 2IC's often unorthodox behaviour in handling the many crises facing the world, he could not, would not, tolerate the sort of disobedience exhibited by Colonel O'Neill. And now, as his eyes strayed to the Jaffa Master looking down onto the Embarkation Room, his blue eyes narrowed coldly at the chain of events he had brought into play.

"It's not going to be easy Master Bra'tac."

The tall, regal warrior, head encased in a close fitting metal helmet, cape thrown back over his shoulders, turned slowly, his black eyes full of sympathetic understanding.

"I have found that anything worth fighting for never is Hammond of Texas." And sensing the Tauri's hesitation, Bra'tac's voice grew gentler still. "O'Neill means much to you?"

"He's the best 2IC I've ever had and I'd want no other man to lead SG-1, my premier team."

Sensing there was more, the warrior encouraged, "And?"

The bald headed man frowned in irritation, not enjoying the probing.

"He is like a son?" Then seeing the look in the general's eyes, he continued acerbically, "Then punish him…argh, yes, now I remember. Teal'c explained these absurd regulations you have that prevent you from dealing with wayward, insubordinate gretchens." And seeing the confusion he'd caused in using a Chulak expression, he explained, "What you Tauri would call a brat."

A faint smile touched Hammond's lips as he decided 'gretchen' was a good word. He wasn't so sure his 2IC would agree.

Just at that moment a firm knock was heard on his door. He straightened. "Enter."

Jack's smiling head appeared and when he saw the General wave him in, he entered.

"General, reporting as ord--." He fell silent on realizing there was a third person in the room. Suddenly a wary look appeared in his previously confident, brown eyes. "Bra'tac – I…er hadn't realized you were going to be here."

The Jaffa warrior inclined his head whilst remaining silent.

"Colonel, Master Bra'tac is going to be part of this training exercise."

"General?" Jack's unease was evident in both his expression and the tone of his voice.

"Take a seat, Colonel."

Slowly, Jack did as bid; his feeling of euphoria having dissipated for no reason he could put his finger on. He turned his head to the Jaffa, but Bra'tac ignored the officer and kept his eyes pinned on the General.

"Colonel O'Neill, I've called you here to brief you on the coming training mission."

And suddenly Jack thought he understood, and although he had every respect for the tall Jaffa warrior he had no intention whatsoever of being part of a joint training session which included green Jaffa rebels. And yet, as he met the eyes of the older warrior he couldn't help but feel he was being assessed and what was even more disconcerting – find he was wanting.

His head jerked up almost as a challenge.

"General, I must have missed a memo, or something?" Jack's eyes never moved from Bra'tac's. "Otherwise I would have made my position clear that I've no wish to train Jaffa rebels, no offence Bra'tac."

"Well, I have to say, Colonel that suits everyone, "the General had a satisfied glint in his eyes," because that's not your brief. This time round you are going to be the trainee and Master Bra'tac will be in command."

Jack froze. Having heard the words he was unable to accept their import and a frown of puzzlement marred his fine features. This had to be a joke.

"Sir, I don't understand."

"Oh, you will, Colonel. Master Bra'tac has kindly offered his services--."

"Services?" Jack was unable to stop himself from interrupting.

The General frowned. "That's right, Colonel. I happened to mention to Master Bra'tac my dilemma in finding a suitable punishment that would be an effective deterrent for one particular officer who had the uncanny ability to drive me to distraction." Hammond's burning gaze had Jack squirming in his seat in all too obvious discomfort. "Then he came up with the perfect solution."

Jack knew with a sinking heart that what he was going to hear was not going to be to his liking.

"General, you can't do this!"

He knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth and he saw the icy determination in his CO's glare.

"I already have, Colonel."

"Sir, with respect, Standing Orders do not--."

"Stand down, Colonel."

"Sir, permission to--." He started to rise to his feet in protest.

"Denied, Colonel." The General held up a finger in warning. "You press me any further, Colonel, and one month can easily become two."

The threat was not an idle one and Jack clamped his mouth shut, his face burning uncomfortably.

Turning to the Jaffa, the General's eyes warmed. "Well, I think we've said all that needs saying, Colonel O'Neill is all yours."

Sending a conspiratorial grin that was instantly repressed the moment Jack looked his way, Bra'tac spoke sternly, "Have no fear, Hammond of Texas, you Gretchen will learn the meaning of obedience before I am through with him." And taking Hammond's cue to stir the embers to an uncomfortable heat, he continued more sharply, "O'Neill, you should know we Jaffa have no qualms when inflicting discipline. Flout the laws and it will result in harsh punishment. Cross me and you will feel my wrath."

Jack wasn't known to plead, but he came close to it now as his eyes searched the General's sending a silent S.O.S. message. Softening his stance, General Hammond offered his 2IC an encouraging look which had Jack hoping…

"General, I promise--."

"Kree!" The Jaffa's staff weapon whistled through the air, stopping a centimeter from Jack's midriff. "Next time," he thundered, "I will not hesitate. Hear me and hear me well, O'Neill – you are now a trainee and you will listen, learn and obey. Any hesitation will be unpleasant. Disobedience will result in painful consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

Jack's eyes burned with resentment as he met Bra'tac's gaze, master warrior to pissed off trainee warrior.

The whack on his shoulder dropped him unceremoniously to his knees and he cursed in pain and anger, only to freeze as the staff weapon made to repeat its movement.

Bra'tac smiled chillingly, aware of the General's unease.

"You will do well to learn this lesson quickly, O'Neill – I will have no hesitation in administering punishment. Insolence will also not be tolerated."

The younger man's eyes dropped, aware the Jaffa would read his mind, wary of being at the receiving end of another painful blow. He resisted the urge to rub his aching shoulder.

"Now go. Await me at the Chappai." The Jaffa nodded when he saw the last flicker of disobedience wilt and as soon as Jack had left the room continued, "The first lesson is always the hardest." And noting the General's unease. "Rest assured, he will be returned to you in the same condition that he left."

----------------------------

As Jack stood waiting for the wormhole to open, he couldn't help but consider the price he was being made to pay for his insubordination. He shook his head thinking how Daniel had complained at the unfairness of their respective treatments by the General. 'Well,' he thought grimly, 'he would be feeling way better when he found out…Hell, there was no time to get word to any of them. No time." He groaned softly, hardly able to believe his fate. One whole month of boot camp, Jaffa boot camp at that!

As Bra'tac came through the blast doors, Jack automatically stiffened to attention, his face a mask of neutrality.

"You are ready, Gretchen?"

Jack stared ahead, unmoving, knowing better than to speak. 'Gretchen, hell, what was that, for crying out loud?

As the wormhole engaged, Jack glanced up to see the General's eyes fixed on him anxiously, and in that second the understanding that had always existed from their first moments serving together strengthened, and under Bra'tac's watchful eye he brought his fingers up to his head and flicked his customary non-regulation salute, giving a wry grin which sent a message to his CO, which had the General replying to the gesture in kind.

He'd do his time, submit to the restrictions and do his best. After all, he could do no less when he had his team back whole and united – and a better team there had never been.

FIN


End file.
